


river of stones

by riptheh



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Possession, Telepathy, my attempt at a case/episode fic, relaxation drugs as a plot point, set after orphan 55, the fam go for a vacation on a cruise ship and the doctor gets possessed bc shes dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riptheh/pseuds/riptheh
Summary: After the disaster on Orphan 55, the Doctor takes the fam on a better vacation - a cruise. However, fraying tensions between the fam and the Doctor, as well as a nasty case of telepathic possession, might put secrets to light that the Doctor would rather keep hidden.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Graham O'Brien, Thirteenth Doctor & Ryan Sinclair, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan
Comments: 161
Kudos: 470





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at a case fic. I'll be updating every few days, or as long as it takes me to write the next few chapters - I have a couple written already, but I want a buffer between chapters so I don't get too behind.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy ten chapters of the Doctor being dumb and the fam once again having a terrible vacation!

“Okay, I know I’ve got it right this time, and—yes!”

Yaz watched as the Doctor grinned in slightly relieved triumph, then pushed the TARDIS doors wide open and stepped out, leaving them swinging behind her. Yaz caught the edge just before it shut, and followed her through, a smile of her own creeping up as she caught sight of what lay before her.

“Oh, yes.” Ryan tumbled out behind her and raised a hand to shield his eyes as he squinted across what appeared to be the deck of a cruise ship. At least, Yaz hoped it was the deck of a cruise ship. That was what they’d been trying for the past seven times. “Okay, Doctor, I’ll admit defeat. You don’t have to make dinner.”

“Brilliant, because I don’t know how to use the oven,” the Doctor replied absently. She was already leaning over the railing, staring at a gem-blue sea far below. Yaz followed her gaze, and caught the break of what looked to be dolphins, arcing beside the ship.

“You don’t know how to use the—“ Graham’s voice stopped as he stepped outside of the TARDIS and stared. “Oh, alright. Okay. I’ll give seven tries for this. You’ve picked a right nice one, Doc.”

“Thanks,” the Doctor called, though she didn’t appear particularly grateful. She was still staring at the water below, the late afternoon sunlight flashing across the surface. 

Seemed even a cruise wasn’t the thing to yank the Doctor out of her crummy mood. Yaz stifled a sigh, and turned to have a look. Graham was right, she had to admit. The Doctor had picked a nice one. Before them, a pool stretched across a sparkling white deck, replete with a wave pool and an enormous twisty slide. Sun loungers surrounded the pool, and off to the left, under an awning, stood what looked to be a bar, stocked with only a few drinks Yaz recognized, and hundreds beyond that.

“Oh, dibs on the slide.” Ryan sidled up beside Yaz, and nudged her in the side. “You’re not too boring to go on the slide, are you? Because if you are—“

“I am not!” Yaz shot him a glare, to which he just laughed. “Besides, if you really want to have a laugh, you should force Graham on it.”

“What, me?” Graham had the nerve to look vaguely insulted. “Oi, I’m down with slides! If anybody, it’s the Doctor you should be forcing on it.”

Ryan grinned. “Yeah, might actually get her to have fun. Right, Doctor?”

“I am having fun.” Her tone was hard. She was still staring at the ocean, but now, Yaz noticed, her knuckles were white upon the railing. “I’m having loads of fun.”

Ryan’s smile slide from his face. “Yeah. Okay.” When the Doctor didn’t reply, he shook his head and turned slightly to Yaz. “You’d think a cruise would pull her out of whatever funk she’s in.”

“Yeah.” Yaz was still watching the Doctor. She couldn’t tell if she had heard, or indeed, if she was listening. She didn’t look it. 

“So, what do we do first?” Graham clapped his hands together. “‘Cause I’ll admit, that pool looks great, but I’d like to get settled in a room first, you know. Put the bags down and all.”

Yaz looked between him and Ryan. “Are we doing rooms? I mean, the TARDIS is—“

But Ryan was shaking his head. “No way, Yaz. A vacation is a vacation. Rooms are the best part. Right, Doctor?”

It took the Doctor a moment to respond. Her gaze stayed upon the sea for several long seconds, then she turned and leaned back against the railing. 

“What’s wrong with the TARDIS?”

Graham groaned. “Doc, c’mon! You know it ain’t a vacation if you just go back to the TARDIS every night. Sorry, but you’ve got to go the whole way.”

“If it’s not too much too ask,” Yaz added, even though she knew it probably wasn’t. After all, the Doctor had only to flash her psychic paper and—

“Excuse me. Did you need to check in?”

Yaz turned at the sound of a cheery, if slightly robotic voice, and blinked at the woman in front of her. No—not woman. A robot, vaguely female, or at least enough to fool on first glance. Her skin—if it could be called skin—was a silvery pale, and translucent enough to spot the circuitry beneath. Upon her chest was a screen, which at the moment stood blank white, except for the words _touch the screen to begin_.

The robot cocked its head, and gave a smile. Its features too were digitized, nothing but a round screen made to look like a human face. It was vaguely unnerving.

“I did not understand your answer. Did you need to check in?”

Yaz took a step back. “Uh, Doctor—”

“Gotcha, Yaz.” The Doctor slid smoothly in between Yaz and the robot, psychic paper already in hand. She shoved it right into the face of the robot—a little rudely, Yaz thought—and said, “The Doctor. Party of four. We’re on the list.”

The robot’s eyes scanned the psychic paper, then blinked once, twice, in a rather mechanical fashion. Then, it smiled, and the screen on its chest changed. Instead of _touch the screen to begin,_ it now read _The Doctor, party of four. Rooms 128 & 129, VIP Suites_.

“Thank you.” The robot dipped its head. “You have been checked in. Your rooms are activated by thumb print. Now, would you like to hear our relaxation options?”

“Think I’m good, thanks.” The Doctor turned and pocketed the psychic paper. Yaz turned too, and watched her step back to the railing, her gaze returning to the water far below.

Pensive, quiet. The same way she had been for the past few weeks, with no clue as to why. Gone was her normal cheer and friendly smiles; in its place was a mopish, almost snappish air, as if she were just waiting for an excuse to slink off into the TARDIS for days on end. Much like a sulky child, Yaz thought, or perhaps more like a teenager, for the Doctor nowadays, more often than not, treated their outings as a required family get together rather than a friendly trip.

It was weird. It was worrying. It was also, after weeks on end, aggravating. 

Neither Ryan nor Graham bothered to join the Doctor, or indeed, ask what was wrong. They had long since learned that such a question was a good way to get snapped at. Instead, Graham brushed by Yaz, and stepped up to the robot.

“I would, thanks.” He gave the robot a tentative smile, to which it returned one of its own, stiffish ones.

“Pleased to hear. We offer many wonderful recreational activities on _The Windovian Blue_ , our premier Nebula-class cruise ship. Below deck, we have a seven star dining area, all inclusive, as well as five bars, a movie theater, a shopping area, and a game room. Above deck, we offer endless sun and excellent views, as well as three pools, one wave pool, a sun deck, and an outdoor restaurant.”

“Oh, this is alright, innit?” Graham grinned, and rubbed his hands together. “Don’t tell me the bar is all inclusive as well.”

The robot cocked its head, its stiff, mechanical smile still in place. “The bar is all inclusive. We also offer free relaxation scans, as well as our top of the line relaxation treatment."

Graham stared. “Sorry. Relaxation what?”

“Relaxation treatment.” Without warning, the robot’s eyes turned red, and a holographic ray shot out, sweeping Graham up and down. Graham took a step back in discernment, but before he could otherwise react, or indeed, protest, the scan finished. The robot’s eyes returned to their normal silvery-gray. The smile reappeared.

“Your scan shows evidence of recent stress. You are eligible for our exclusive relaxation treatment.” A hatch on its chest popped open, and the robot, ignoring Graham’s sharp intake of surprise, reached inside and removed a small white adhesive tab, which it then extended to Graham.

“Holy—” Tentatively, Graham took the patch between two fingers and held it up to examine. “Ryan, son! Look at this!”

Ryan sidled up beside Yaz, who leaned in as well, curious. “What’s that, grandad?”

“Dunno.” Graham’s eyes fell from the tab, back to the robot. “Er, what do I do with it?”

The robot, its serene smile still in place, extended a silvery finger to its ear. “The relaxi-tab is designed for easy, modest use. Place behind your ear, and the tab will take care of the rest.” It tilted its head. Silvery-gray digital eyes blinked. “Do you require additional assistance?”

“I don’t reckon so, no.” Graham was still eying the tab, uncertain interest mingling with curiosity. Then, with a small shrug, he brought it to his ear.

“Graham, don’t!” All of a sudden the Doctor was there, stepping between Graham and the robot, one hand out to block his arm. Graham paused, then slowly lowered the tab.

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me—I was about to kill myself or something there.”

The Doctor shook her head, though her eyes were all for the robot, sharp and punitive. “Don’t think we’ll be needing those, thanks. Not much for relaxation, us.”

“I’m all for relaxation, actually,” Graham grumbled, but instead he closed the tab in his fist and brought it to his side. The Doctor continued to glare at the robot, who only blinked calmly at her.

“Your temperament suggests high levels of stress. Would you like to experience our relaxation treatment?”

“No,” the Doctor scowled. “None of us would. We’ve gotten our rooms, heard the options. We’re good, thanks.”

It was short—even rude, Yaz thought. The kind of tone she once would have thought she’d never hear from the Doctor. But the robot only smiled, then dipped its head and turned, moving off to a man dressed in an expensive looking polo shirt and shorts. The Doctor watched it go, then turned to the others.

“Relaxi-tabs,” she stated. Her eyes darted between the three of them, severe as a schoolteacher’s. “Supposed to help your _vacation_.” She flicked the word from her tongue as if it were dirty. “No more than drugs, meant to help you relax. At least, in your time they’d be considered drugs. Nowadays, they’re just considered good fun. And highly addictive to humans,” she added, as Graham glanced to his closed fist. “Seriously, not something to mess about with. I’d get rid of that as soon as possible.”

“Right.” Graham examined his closed fist, then sighed and glanced around for a trash receptacle. “Always a risk, these off-planet trips. Don’t suppose we could go on a human cruise, next time around. Not, humanoid—human.”

But the Doctor was already moving off, her eyes on the robot, who seemed to be caught in a tiff with the polo-shirted man. Behind him, a woman and a small girl stood, looking increasingly uncomfortable. A family, if Yaz had to guess, if only by the increasingly embarrassed air of the mother, who had her hand tight around the little girl’s. 

“And, there she goes again,” Ryan muttered. “You know what? I reckon she could use one of those relaxi-things. Wonder if they’re addictive to Time Lords.”

“Ryan,” Yaz hissed. When Ryan looked to her in surprise, she shook her head. “C’mon. She’s just looking out for us.”

Ryan looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Yeah, I know.” Then he pointed his chin in the direction of the Doctor. “Guess we ought to make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Graham grumbled behind them. Yaz twisted around, and watched him gingerly slip the tab into his pocket. “Don’t know what to do with that. C’mon, let’s go see what she’s up to.”

As they approached, it became immediately clear that the Doctor had gone and plunged herself right in the middle of something—again. She was standing between the man and the robot, her hands out as if to curb an argument.

“No need to get all huffy with the robot,” she said to the man as Yaz and the others approached. “It’s only a machine.”

Beside Yaz, Ryan snorted. “Oh, like she wasn’t like that a second ago.”

Yaz didn’t bother to shush him. Instead, she stepped ahead, and called out, in the best police voice she could muster, “Something the matter here?”

The Doctor opened her mouth, but it was the man who answered. “Yeah, I’ll say!” He jabbed a finger at the Doctor. “I was just trying to find out the relaxation options, when this lady showed up and started getting in my face! And she doesn’t even work here!”

“Oi, you were the one trying to manhandle the robot!” the Doctor retorted. “Don’t they teach you manners where you come from?”

Red crept up the man’s face, right to the edge of his balding scalp. “Manhandle? Are you kidding—”

“You were shaking it, daddy,” the little girl piped up from behind. “It said that wasn’t an effective action.”

The man spun around, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. “I wasn’t shaking it, sweetie,” he growled. “I was just trying to fix—”

“The fact that it didn’t give you the relaxi-tab option you wanted?” When the man didn’t respond, the Doctor raised her eyebrows, her hands moving to her hips. “Yeah, I saw. Sorry to say, that’s the paid option. And you didn’t pay.”

The man’s angry flush deepened. “Who are you to know what I paid? With the price I forked over for this cruise, I should be able to—”

“Earl, please,” the woman said quietly behind him. “We don’t need to make a scene.”

“I’m not making a scene,” the man growled. His eyes were fixed upon the Doctor, moving over her face as if trying to decipher just who she was, where she had come from. It was a look Yaz recognized a lot, upon people facing down the Doctor. They never seemed to find an answer.

Then again, it wasn’t as if the Doctor were so keen to give one.

“It’s not a scene,” the man repeated. His finger jabbed into the Doctor’s chest. “At least it wasn’t, until you got involved. Do you even know who I am?”

“Somebody very important, I’m guessing,” the Doctor replied. Her eyes flicked down to the finger against her chest. She didn’t look very impressed. “Not all that important, though, if you can’t pay for the extra treatment, huh?”

There was a moment in any conflict, Yaz knew, where the thread of argument began to unravel towards chaos. This was that moment. The man turned purple, and opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Yaz stepped forward.

“Sir, please.” She plastered her most winning smile upon her face. “We’re not trying to start a fight. My friend is just a very strong proponent of robot rights.”

Behind her, the Doctor made a noise of disbelief. “I also happen to be a strong proponent of—”

“Resolving conflict,” Yaz finished, forcing her smile brighter. The man’s eyes moved from the Doctor to her. He frowned.

“Right,” he said. “Sure.” His eyes swept over the Doctor once more, then he let out a snort. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I don’t want to ruin my family’s vacation.”

With that he turned, and reached out to take the woman’s hand. “C’mon, dear. I’ll figure out the payment options later.”

“Alright.” The woman only seemed relieved at his apparent surrender. She shot Yaz an apologetic look as she took his hand, then turned with him, the little girl trailing beside her. Yaz kept her smile upon her face until they were well out of earshot, then spun around.

“Doctor, really?” she hissed. “What on earth was that about?”

The Doctor looked at her in surprise. “Huh?”

“The interfering?” Yaz put her hands on her hips. “The getting in another family’s business? We’re here to have _fun_.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor shot back. “I know. And they are too. Look at that little girl!” She pointed. Yaz twisted around, and caught sight of the little girl swinging on her mother’s arm, happy as could be. “She looks absolutely miserable, and—”

“He’s not with us, now is he?” Graham sidled up beside Yaz, his tone firm. “C’mon, Doc. We just want to have a good holiday. Not get involved in some other family’s business.”

The Doctor eyed him for a moment, then let out a huff. “Fine. I wasn’t trying to ruin the holiday. Just helping.”

“We know,” Yaz jumped in immediately. She shot Graham a quick, grateful look, and he gave a small nod. “Seriously. It’s great. But for now, can we just…relax?”

“Relax.” The Doctor studied her for a long moment, gaze unreadable. Then, to Yaz’s everlasting relief, she mustered the faintest of smiles. Forced and cracked, but it was there. “You’re right, Yaz. Let’s relax.”

She glanced at the other two, and shrugged. “Sorry. I’ll get us all drinks, bring the mood back.”

She didn’t wait to hear their orders, or indeed, their replies, but moved off to the bar, leaving the three to stare.

“Bloody hell,” Graham muttered. “I swear, even if we get lucky with the aliens and things trying to kill us bit, we’ll still have to deal with her.”

“We’re not dealing,” Yaz said. She was watching the Doctor as she shouldered her way brusquely between patrons. “She’s family, Graham.”

“Right difficult family,” Ryan said beside her. “Seriously, I’m not into those relaxi-tabs, but if she wanted to take one…”

He trailed off, and this time Yaz didn’t bother to reprimand him. How could she? He had a point, tasteless as the wording was. The Doctor needed to relax—from something, or someone, Yaz didn’t know. But if she stayed like this the whole trip, well—

Yaz wasn’t sure any of them would survive it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey its ya boi back at it with another chapter
> 
> more fam angst, this time from the Doctor's pov, but next chapter I promise we'll be getting into the plot for sure! Also, thank you all for the comments and kudos! I truly appreciate <3

It was only when the Doctor reached the bar that she realized she hadn’t gotten the fam’s orders.

“Oh, for Rassilon’s sake—“ It was her fault, of course. However, she didn’t have the guts to turn around to ask. Not when the fam was waiting, irritation simmering off of them like a pot set to a low boil. She had to make up her earlier behavior somehow, which meant she couldn’t come back empty handed. 

So, instead of returning to ask, she ordered three deep blue drinks—she liked blue—scooped them up, and turned around again, only to find the fam deep in conversation with another robot.

“Again?” she muttered. What is it, she wondered, with humans? Unable to tear their noses away from shiny new toys. Quickly, the three drinks balanced between two hands, and desperately wishing she had a third, she began to shoulder her way through patrons, ignoring the huffs and rude looks that came her way.

“What’s up, gang?” she said with a bright smile plastered upon her face. Only Yaz turned to her, the other two still examining the robot’s chest screen with great interest. Upon it, the Doctor caught a glimpse of what looked like a map.

“Nothing.” Yaz returned her smile tentatively, before her eyes dropped to the drinks in her hands. “We, uh, were looking for the rooms. Wanted to get settled in.”

“And we found them.” Graham straightened, and gave the robot a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Right useful you were. Thanks, love.”

“It doesn’t respond to praise,” the Doctor informed him. “It’s only got basic programming.”

Graham either didn’t hear her, or didn’t deign to respond. Instead he turned to the three of them, and plunged his hands in his jacket pockets, then tilted his head in the direction of the stairwell. “Well, what do you say? Find the rooms, then hit the pool? I don’t know about you lot, but I could use a good soak. Get all the extraterrestrial off of me.”

The Doctor wondered if she should bother telling him that was vaguely offensive. She didn’t. Instead she shifted the drinks in her hands, and said, “Sure. But don’t you need to get—”

“Bathing suits are available for free in the shopping area,” the robot provided. The Doctor scowled at it, to which it only smiled. “We have a wide selection to choose from. We also have included relaxation treatment—”

“Which we don’t want, thanks,” the Doctor cut it off sharply. The robot fell silent, still smiling stiffly. A short, awkward silence fell between the four. In it, the Doctor could feel the condensation of the glasses in her hands, growing slippery against her fingers.

Then, Ryan rubbed his hands together, a grin creeping up his face. “Alright, alright,” he said. “Free stuff! Think we could snag some towels too?”

“Bet we could find out,” Yaz replied. She jerked her chin in the direction of the pool. “C’mon. I’m dying to get into the water. It looks amazing.”

It didn’t look amazing at all to the Doctor. Then again, she didn’t really like swimming, and she particularly didn’t like swimming in pools. Nothing more than a stew of chlorine and bacteria, the kind which left a funny taste on her tongue and a strange tingling on her skin. Not to mention, her lower body temperature made anything less than a hot tub feel like an ice bath.

She didn’t mention this to the fam. Still, something must have showed on her face, because Yaz’s gaze fell upon her, concerned. “You alright with that, Doctor?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” The drinks were slippery in her hands. Quickly, she hefted them. “But don’t you want—”

“Nah.” Graham’s eyes were already upon the door. “It’s a bit early for drinks, you ask me. Thanks anyway, though, Doc.”

“Oh.” The Doctor could feel annoyance rising in her gut, and swallowed it. “I guess I’ll just…put them over there, then?” 

“Yeah.” Ryan was already drifting towards the stairwell. “We’ll meet you downstairs, okay? 128 and 129.”

“Oh, yeah.” The Doctor watched them move towards the stairwell, a strange feeling in her stomach. “Okay. I’ll meet you. Right after I—”

But they were already off, only Yaz casting her one last sympathetic glance before turning to the stairs. She stared after them, and tried not to let it bother her. Actually, it didn’t bother her. Because that would be silly. After all, she had only picked up free drinks, hadn’t even needed to pay for them. She could just set them down, and—

“Good afternoon. You appear to be exhibiting high levels of emotional stress. Would you like to partake in our relaxation treatment?”

“What?” The Doctor spun around, blue drink sloshing over her hands, to come face to face with the same robot from before. It cocked its head, a bland smile upon its face. “No, I wouldn’t! And my stress is fine!”

The robot only continued to smile. “Our scans indicate you are exhibiting high levels of emotional stress. You are eligible for our basic relaxi-tab—”

“I don’t want it!” the Doctor growled, and shoved the drinks into the hands of the robot. “Here, if you want to be useful, have these! Nobody else wants them, apparently.”

The robot accepted the drinks with placid grace. “Thank you. I will dispose of these properly. Have a relaxing afternoon.”

“I will,” the Doctor retorted, and didn’t wait for a response, but stomped off in the direction of the stairwell, only to find that the fam had already disappeared. They hadn’t bothered to wait. 

Tired of her, the Doctor thought, then squashed the thought immediately. No, they weren’t tired. Just in a hurry to relax. She would meet up with them in the shopping area, hang around whilst they did their boring swimsuit shopping, and then she’d somehow traipse through an afternoon of nothing. The fam would enjoy themselves, and things would be fine.

Things would be fine.

——————

Things were not fine. In fact, they got considerably worse.

“C’mon, Doctor.” Yaz was begging from outside the changing room door, close enough that the Doctor could see her feet shifting under the gap. “I’m sure you look great.”

“I don’t care how I look,” the Doctor shot back, which was at least partially true. It wasn’t a matter of looks, really, but a matter of comfort, and the Doctor didn’t feel comfortable at all. Even if this was, by Yaz’s standards, a very modest bathing suit.

The problem was, the Doctor didn’t want to wear a bathing suit. She didn’t even want to go swimming, and she most certainly didn’t want to change out of her normal, comfortable clothing, to fit into a skin tight piece of fabric, the material of which she didn’t like and the skimpiness of which she despised. Clothes were a tricky thing with the Doctor. Bodies were even trickier. She’d only just started to get used to being in a woman’s one, and hadn’t yet ventured into gendered items beyond the bare necessities.

A bathing suit was miles out of her comfort zone. And yet here she was, trapped behind the thin door of a changing room, held hostage by her companion’s dated twenty-first century views on gender.

“I said you could wear the shorts with it,” came Yaz’s frustrated reply. “Seriously, it doesn’t matter! But Doctor, you can’t just wear a regular shirt into the pool. It won’t dry fast enough.”

The Doctor didn’t bother mentioning that she didn’t plan on entering the pool. She hadn’t planned on trying on swim wear either, except that her arrival to the shopping area had apparently been precluded by the expectation of doing so. The moment she’d arrived, Yaz had shoved a set of bathing suits into her arms, and steered them both into a changing room. It had taken multiple minutes, and some slight strong-arming, to separate them into two.

“Girls share changing rooms all the time!” Yaz had said, as the Doctor had pushed her out.

“Not in my species,” the Doctor had said, and that had been the end of that. It wasn’t even necessarily true—Time Lords didn’t put much stock in the whole gender thing—but they did put plenty of stock in privacy, and the Doctor valued hers. Mentally, most of all. After spending years around humans, she had begun to value physical privacy as well. It placed a distance between herself and her friends, one she guarded carefully, lest she slip. And she couldn’t slip, because there was too much roiling beneath the surface. Once one thing came out, it all would.

And her friends would never want to talk to her again.

“Doctor,” Yaz called, frustration bordering on a whine that forcibly reminded the Doctor of her mere twenty-one years, “please. The boys are waiting.”

Of course they were waiting. Again, they were all waiting on her—waiting to go to the pool, waiting to have fun, waiting for a cue she was never going to give. What was it, the Doctor wondered irritably, that placed so much expectation upon her? She was here, she was trying. Couldn’t she do it at her own speed, her own comfort?

“Fine,” she huffed, and without warning, shoved the door open, forcing Yaz back a step. Yaz stumbled, then caught her footing, and looked the Doctor over. Slowly, a grin spread across her face.

“Doctor, you look great,” she said, with such fervor that the Doctor knew she was laying it on thick. “That really suits you.”

A black bathing suit, and blue swim trunks. The Doctor had a feeling such wear would suit anybody, if they valued modesty and boredom. She didn’t mention this. Instead she only looked past Yaz’s shoulder, to where the boys stood in their own swim trunks, looking bored and impatient.

“Alright,” she said. She didn’t look at Yaz. “Let’s go.”

The trip to the pool was quiet, and restrained with something the Doctor couldn’t quite put her finger on. Once, when she glanced back, she caught Ryan sharing an indecipherable look with Graham, which melted the moment he caught her gaze. She looked away, and heard a quiet sigh behind her.

They set up on sun loungers beside the largest pool, a turquoise rectangle with waves lapping gently at the sloped edges. Graham and Ryan made immediately for the pool, Yaz trailing behind them. She stopped only when she realized that the Doctor wasn’t following.

“Doctor?” She turned to find the Doctor sitting upon a sun lounger, her elbows on her knees and her chin sunk into her hands.

“Yes?” The Doctor looked up, but didn’t make any motion to move. Apparently, it wasn’t enough of a message. Yaz frowned, then turned fully to face her. 

“Are you not coming in?”

Be nice, the Doctor thought. Be _polite_. 

“Don’t think so.” She looked past Yaz, to the pool, and raised an eyebrow. “Cesspools of disease, public pools. I’m fine here, thanks.”

Yaz stared at her, and in the beat that followed, it occurred to the Doctor that perhaps that hadn’t been the nicest thing to say after all.

“Er, but I’m sure it’s fine,” she added hastily. “Chlorine kills it all. Could even kill you, if it’s used improperly—uh, but it won’t. But I’ll stay out, just in case.”

“Really,” Yaz said flatly. Her eyes skimmed over the Doctor’s bathing suit, the shorts she had been forced into. “You want to come all this way and sit on the side?”

“Sunbathing,” the Doctor answered without missing a beat. “That’s a thing, isn’t it? I love sunbathing.”

She didn’t, but a white lie, she figured, was a forgivable sin. Add it to the list of missteps and mistakes she’d begun to gather in her wake the past several weeks.

Behind Yaz, just at the water’s edge, the boys had stopped and turned, curiosity halting them. As the Doctor watched, Ryan leaned over and whispered something to Graham, who nodded grimly.

“Hey, Doc!” Graham called, an encouraging smile upon his face. “Water looks great, if you want to join us!”

The water looked cold, the Doctor reflected. Cold, and filled with chlorine. With a tight smile, she shook her head.

“Oh, alright,” Yaz sighed. She turned, and gestured to the boys, who after a moment’s hesitation, began to turn as well, back to the water. They were a good length off, but even so, the Doctor caught Ryan’s grumble as they began to wade in.

“Never does anything lately, won’t even hang out with us. It’s like she—“

The Doctor cringed into her sun lounger. Caught, was what she was. Caught between a strained mood and a wet, cold afternoon wading around in a _swimming pool_ , of all things. Something she would have found boring on the most benign of days.

What was it with humans? she wondered. Picking the most boring activities, and calling it leisure. As a species, they couldn’t seem to stop pushing into the stars, yet at any moment, they wanted to take a break. Cruises, spas, hotels, swimming—a catalog of the mundane, and all to their seeming pleasure. She’d never been able to understand it, only go along with it. 

Except now, she couldn’t even find it in herself to do that. Dullness dragged at her, sunk its claws in her back and pulled her tight with a tension she couldn’t understand. And what was more, she couldn’t fake it. Once, she had been able to. Now, all their mindless activities, their tours and shows and alien resorts, seemed silly in the face of—in the face of—

A shriek jerked her out of her reverie. The Doctor sat sharply upright, hearts pounding, only to realize it had come from Yaz, the victim of Ryan’s splashing. She watched her return the favor, and felt a pit of guilt open up in her stomach, accompanied by an ever-present annoyance. They were mad at her—Ryan’s whisper had told her as much. Now they were ignoring her and her tetchy mood, and she couldn’t blame them. 

Abruptly, a shadow fell over her. The Doctor’s head jolted up, her mouth already open to snap off a rejoinder.

“Excuse me. Are you enjoying yourself?” A robot, a new one this time, tilted its head and gave her a placid smile.

“Uh—what?” The Doctor stared, rejoinder forgotten. Shame—it had been clever, too. “I mean—I didn’t ask for anything. I don’t need assistance.”

The robot’s smile only lengthened, calm as a lake. No emotion behind it at all. “Our readings indicate high levels of stress. Would you like to partake in our—”

“No!” The Doctor shot to her feet, forcing the robot backwards. It continued to smile, unperturbed. 

“Your relaxation is important to us. We would love—”

“I’m fine,” the Doctor growled, and brushed past the robot, leaving it spinning awkwardly. She didn’t look behind her, but continued to stalk forward, putting as much distance between it and her as she could.

“Bloody relaxi-tabs,” she muttered to nobody. “As if anybody would want—oh.”

She stopped, swaying, at the sudden chill of water lapping over her toes. She drew them back immediately and looked down, only to realize that her hasty exit had brought her right to the sloping edge of the pool. Rough, white stone gleamed dully beneath her feet. 

“Hey, there she is!” The Doctor’s head snapped up to catch Ryan, his hands in the air and a smile upon his face. “Climbed out of her cave!”

“You mean her sun lounger,” Yaz corrected, a smile upon her face as well. The Doctor looked between the two of them, studying the relief on their faces, the grins. She couldn’t tell if they were grinning for her.

“So that’s it, Doc?” Graham asked. “Decided to have a bit of fun?”

“What—? No,” she said without thinking, only to watch smiles drop one by one. “I mean, uh—”

She didn’t want to. Her body temperature was naturally low, and as a result, so too felt the water, already turning her toes numb. She didn’t want to wade in, and she didn’t want to fake a smile, and she wouldn’t be standing on the edge if that idiot robot hadn’t forced her to abscond. 

“’Course she wouldn’t,” Ryan muttered, and that settled it. The Doctor scowled, and took a step into the water, wincing as cold shot through her foot. It was chilly, terribly so, in a way she could feel already seeping into her skin, sinking through her bones. She didn’t want to take another step.

She did so anyway. Then she took another, and another, and hated any minute of it, even more than she’d hated being dunked as a witch, because this time, she had to stay and bear it. Force a smile, if she could.

She wasn’t sure she could.

She made it to waist-height, feeling terribly cold and terribly exposed, then stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. It did nothing to help her.

“I’m here,” she grumbled, to which Yaz responded with a smile.

“Knew you’d join us,” she said, which somehow only irritated the Doctor further. What did Yaz know of her? she wondered bitterly. Other than a few facts and the occasional slip. Nothing, and of course she wouldn’t know that the Doctor’s core temperature was dropping dangerously lower by the minute.

Then again, she hadn’t bothered to ask, had she?

“Did you?” the Doctor snapped, and realized a moment later that she shouldn’t have. Yaz’s smile dropped like a stone, and so did Ryan and Graham’s.

“Oi, no need to be like that,” Graham told her, tone rough. “She’s only being nice.”

He sounded like a grandfather, the Doctor thought. A grandfather, parenting a three thousand year old alien. She didn’t appreciate it.

“I know,” she told him, which clearly didn’t help. He pursed his lips into a frown, then shook his head, only the slightest shake, but enough for the Doctor to know that he didn’t approve.

Somehow, despite the numbness of her toes and fingers, and the shiver traversing her spine, that felt the worst. 

“You didn’t have to come in,” Yaz said. She sounded offended, and when the Doctor looked to her, she was biting her lip, a hurt look upon her face. “Seriously, I only meant—”

“I know what you meant,” the Doctor said without thinking, in a voice that was meant to be soft, but which she knew immediately to be wrong. It was hard, first of all, and coarse, and had all her annoyance, her simmering anger, slipping out together, much as she tried to reel it in. It wasn’t even fair, because it wasn’t directed at Yaz, though she couldn’t tell what it _was_ directed at. At something else, maybe, something bigger than them all, something that was so much more important than a stupid cruise and a silly pool, and an inane spat between a pseudo-family. 

None of this mattered, the Doctor thought. None of it. And yet here she was, watching Yaz draw back in hurt, and knowing that she had caused it. Guilt swept through her, but before she could even think about taking it back, Ryan jumped in.

“Really, Doctor?” He stepped forward, or rather, waded forward, the motion sending small waves splashing against the Doctor. She tried not to shiver. “Are you kidding me? Yaz, of all of us, has been nothing but nice—”

“Ryan—” Yaz said quietly, but Ryan only put up a hand to stop her.

“No.” His gaze—his glare—was leveled upon the Doctor, colder than the water she was standing in. “Seriously, I’ve had it. You’re being a jerk, Doctor. To all of us.”

“I—” The Doctor gaped at him, at the sheer brazenness of his words, his clumsy slicing to the heart of the matter, which wasn’t fair at _all_. They weren’t supposed to confront her about this, not in a pool of all places, and not after she had been trying _so_ hard to make it all normal. To shove it all under the rug, where things like these belonged.

They weren’t being fair, she thought, and once more, anger rose up in her. They weren’t being fair, talking to her about something she couldn’t even answer, looking for knowledge they didn’t want. Knowledge that she didn’t want to give, that she had a _right_ not to give. They were too close to the heart of the matter, and she had to pull them back, drag them into navigable territory.

“That’s not fair,” she retorted, and kept going, even as Ryan made a noise of disbelief deep in his throat. “That’s not fair at all. I’m the one who took you here, I’m the one who—”

“Who’s sitting on a sun lounger, acting like the world has ended.” Ryan cut her off with a single sentence, his gaze hard, demanding. So too did he cut off the Doctor’s next retort, and the air from her lungs. She felt, in fact, as if both her hearts had stopped, like she’d been delivered a clean punch to the gut.

Silence fell. She stared at him, unable to summon even a word of response.

“Uh—” After several moments, it was Graham who tried to break the pause. “To be fair to Ryan, you have been sitting there like—”

“The world has ended.” The Doctor didn’t look at him. She was staring at Ryan, gaze cold. She felt still as stone—even her shivering had stopped. In the lull, she could feel her two hearts beating a racket against her chest. “No, I heard him. I understood perfectly.”

“Okay.” Yaz was eying her uncertainly, as if trying to parse the sudden change in mood. Even Ryan was looking uneasy, leaning back slightly. “Well—”

“I’m done here,” the Doctor said, her voice even. Too even to be natural. “I don’t think the pool is for me. I’ll leave you three to have fun.”

With that she turned, conscious of three pairs of eyes upon her back. They blazed into her, hotter than a brand, but she ignored them to wade back to the entrance, stepping gratefully onto the sun-warmed deck. Behind her, she could hear the water splash as they began to shift, muttering uncomfortably.

“She won’t even talk to—”

“Something’s bothering—”

“Like she’ll tell us what it is!”

“Seriously, this is gonna be the worst vacation—”

The Doctor didn’t hear the rest. Hurriedly, she stepped out of earshot and, because she didn’t think she could bear to watch them have their pure, simple, human fun without her, she turned to the stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As one commenter pointed out, I am literally entirely wrong on the water being cold/body temperature being cold thing. That is not how it works at all. This is just a note - usually I am VERY meticulous in my research, and of course the one time I thought 'yeah I'm pretty sure that's how it goes...' 
> 
> Anyway, apologies for the inaccurate science! I have tentative plans to fix it, but that involves a bit of a lengthy rewrite, so until further notice, just know that that is Not How Science Works, and my apologies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post this on sunday but then i went yolo and now im here rip
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments!

They made their way back to their rooms in subdued silence, the rest of their time in the water having passed in unenjoyable quiet. It was hard to have fun, Yaz reflected, after a family spat. Or at least so it felt, between the four of them. The closest comparison she could muster was the squabbles she and her sister would get into on their family vacations. This felt the same, or at least similar.

Some family they were, though. Ryan her sibling, Graham her pseudo-grandad, and the Doctor—what? Something between any of the roles, and beyond them all at once. The founder of their little group, and the one who had held it together.

Except now, the seams she had sewn were fraying, and rather than holding them together, she felt like she was tearing them apart. She had extracted herself, for reasons Yaz couldn’t explain, and held them at a distance, never quit meshing, but never quit leaving. In her absence, Yaz, Ryan and Graham had tightened their bonds, building a new kind of group, a three plus one. 

She didn’t like it. None of them liked it. Except that for every day that passed, their new dynamic grew stronger, and the old one faded away, widening the distance between them, no matter how Yaz tried to bridge the gap.

Then again, it was hard to build bridges when one side refused to cross them.

With a sigh, Yaz pressed her thumb to the pad just beneath her room’s door handle, and waited for the click. Vaguely, she wondered what she was meant to say to the Doctor. The problem was, she agreed with Ryan. The Doctor had been a jerk, had been acting like a jerk for a while now, and wouldn’t explain why, even though something was clearly eating at her. What, Yaz couldn’t say.

Neither would the Doctor. Not even, Yaz reckoned, if her life depended upon it. 

“Hey, Doctor,” she began as she pushed the door open. Better to cut to the chase, she figured. As unpleasant as the task may be. “Listen, about the pool…oh.”

She trailed off as the door swung open, and she stood staring at an empty room. No, not empty; upon the Doctor’s bed, the pool water soaking into the bedsheets, was her swim wear, tossed seemingly without a care. The suitcase Yaz had made her pack was open, and the clothes inside clearly rummaged through.

Gone. The Doctor had changed and left, leaving Yaz to an empty room, and no way to resolve whatever dispute had happened between them. She stared at the scene, then huffed, rare annoyance rising up in her.

Mostly, she was good at not being annoyed—especially with the Doctor, who ranked among one of her favorite people. Most of her annoyance she reserved for her sister, or her father’s insistence on cooking recipes he was terrible at. Generally, when it came to disputes, familial or otherwise, she was good at sorting them out. It was why she was a good fit for policing.

But how was she supposed to solve a dispute when the other party wouldn’t even hang around to hear it?

“Oh, Doctor—” she began, which was useless anyway. “You could at least leave a—”

Note. A note, there upon the bedside table. Quickly, Yaz crossed the room and picked it up. It was short, written in the Doctor’s uneven handwriting, and to the point. 

_Left to explore. Meet for dinner at the topside restaurant, 7 pm._

Yaz stared at the words for several long moments. Briefly, she wondered why she had expected anything different. Probably, the Doctor had gone off to hunt up trouble, which she would then deliver to them on a silver platter, thus upsetting their vacation and taking the heat off of her. Nothing like a mystery to distract, Yaz thought.

Once again, annoyance curled up in her, and before she realized what she was doing, the paper was balled up in her fist, nothing more than a crumple of paper and words.

“Guess I’ll inform the boys,” she muttered, then turned and stalked off, the paper still in her hand.

—————

Despite the Doctor’s best attempts, there was nothing much out of the ordinary on the ship, minus a few rooms the staff wouldn’t let her into.

“I’m an inspector!” she protested, but psychic paper didn’t work on robots, so after a few halfhearted attempts she was forced to turn away, traipsing disappointedly back up the stairwell, where the sun was finally setting, casting orange light across a blue sea.

“Bloody cruise,” she muttered as she stomped to the only place she hadn’t yet checked for mischief, minus her brief foray for drinks. “Bloody, stupid, boring cruise, with nothing interesting to do or see, or—”

“May I help you?” The robot bartender tilted its head and smiled that same smile the Doctor was extremely sick of seeing. 

“Yes, I’ll have water,” the Doctor growled, thumping onto a barstool. The robot bartender nodded, then whisked away to complete her order, leaving her to do nothing but slump onto the counter, her head in her hands.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

A voice. She knew that voice. Slowly, the Doctor raised her head, then swiveled to face its owner.

A white polo shirt, a balding head. A face which, hours ago when she’d last been arguing with him, had been screwed up in anger. Now, it was smooth and relaxed, an easy grin upon his lips.

“Oh. You.” She eyed him distastefully, one elbow still propped upon the bar. “Shouldn’t you be off telling somebody you’re the king of something or other?”

“You mean the CEO of Alvastry Industries?” The man smiled, but there was nothing rude about it. Rather, he appeared perfectly friendly, right down to the way he faced the Doctor, his body language open and unaggressive. “Oh, yeah. That’s me. Sorry about the tiff before. I was a little wound up.”

“A little wound up?” The Doctor balked. “Excuse me, but you looked as if you were about to blow your top, if you don’t mind my saying. It was downright rude.”

She expected the man to bristle, or at least huff at her blunt description. Rather, he only chuckled, and waved a lazy, dismissive hand. His other clutched a drink. “You’re right. It was rude of me. Like I said, sorry. It’s these family vacations, you know?” 

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and the Doctor followed his gaze, where the woman from before stood in the shallow end of the pool, splashing with the delighted little girl. 

“They look like they’re having fun,” she said. Her eyes moved back to the man. “Why don’t you join them?”

“I will in a minute.” The man grinned, then picked up his glass and tilted it towards her, before taking a swig. He set it down with a clatter, then smiled again. “I’m going to take over and give the wife a break. Just grabbing a drink, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” the Doctor responded, though she didn’t really. She wasn’t even particularly interested in finishing this conversation, but she had nothing to do until seven. Nothing to do until she met the fam again, and somehow sparked another argument, the kind of which she never knew how to avoid lately. 

The man gave her a knowing wink and a nod, then lifted his glass for another drink. When he lowered it, he shook his head.

“It’s the stress, isn’t it?” he said.

“Is it?” the Doctor said politely. “Of what?”

The man shrugged. “Everything. Running the business—I’m sure you know it’s no walk in the park.”

“Oh yeah,” the Doctor lied. “Definitely. Running a business. Why do I know that, again?”

The man shot her a quizzical look, though even that was softened by something the Doctor couldn’t quite decipher. “Well, you’re on this cruise, aren’t you? VIP only. The big names, you know. Industry heads, presidents. And their families.”

He cast another look to his wife and daughter, still playing in the pool. Behind them, the setting sun framed a soft glow. 

“Oh, I remember that,” the Doctor lied again. “Yeah, of course. I’m quite the big shot. And it is hard.”

The man laughed loudly. “Hell yeah, it is!” he crowed, ignoring the way the Doctor wrinkled her nose. “All the pressure at the top—it’s a death sentence, mark my words. And then, you go on vacation—” He shook his head. “Pay for the best cruise, pay for the best services, and even that’s stressful.”

“Why?” The Doctor stared at him. It sounded like a load of rubbish, if she was being honest. Surreptitiously, she glanced to the stairwell, wondering if the fam would make a convenient entrance. Not that she was entirely keen on meeting them again.

“Oh, you know.” The man took another sip of his drink. “It’s the family, isn’t it? It’s like—” He hung his glass in his fingers and propped his head upon the back of his hand, thinking. The Doctor watched condensation drip upon the bar. “It’s like you’re torn in two different directions, isn’t it? Your family begs for your time when you can’t give it, and then when you can, your head’s so full of stuff that you let them down anyway.”

He leaned back in his seat, and shrugged. He was loose, the Doctor thought. Relaxed. All of his aggression, gone like water down a drain. “You can’t just put on a smile, you know? You’re too busy working for your kid’s future, or making sure you can pay the mortgage, or keeping up the savings accounts. But they don’t get that.” He tapped the side of his head. “They don’t see all the stuff weighing on you. They just want your time, but the problem is, even when you can give it, you can’t really.”

“You can’t, can you?” the Doctor echoed dimly. The man nodded, but she barely noticed. She was too busy considering his words, a strange feeling growing in her chest. Recognition, maybe. Kinship. She didn’t really like it. 

“Yeah, but not for lack of trying,” the man continued. He gestured toward his family. “See them? Best two things to ever happen to me. And I try, hell, I try as hard as I can. They just don’t see it, you know? They don’t get it.”

“They don’t,” the Doctor repeated. Then she shook her head, forcing herself to refocus. “To be fair, you were shaking a robot. Not exactly an upstanding example for your child, no offense.”

“None taken,” the man replied. “Honestly, you’re right. Why do you think I paid for the upgrade?”

“Huh?” The Doctor stared at him, nonplussed. “What upgrade?”

For answer, the man only twisted his head to show the space behind his ear. The Doctor leaned forward, frowning, and—

There. A small white tab, placed just behind his left ear. A relaxi-tab, with a small mark to show that it was a deluxe package.

“You did pay!” she exclaimed, settling back into her chair. She shook her head. “Oh, I should have known. That’s why you’re like this, isn’t it? Loose as a goose, don’t have a care in the world. You’re drugged.”

“Drugged?” The man shook his head. “You think this is strong enough to count as a drug? Look—”

He tapped behind his ear, and above his head, a hologram appeared. The Doctor leaned forward, squinting, and caught his vitals, as well as other pertinent information. Brainwaves and the like.

“I prefer the deluxe package because it lasts longer.” With a tap, he switched the hologram off, watching as the Doctor settled back into her chair. “But you—” he pointed a finger at her— “You wouldn’t need that. It only relaxes, you know. It’s only addictive to that one species—the what-do-you-call-em?”

“Humans?” the Doctor said.

The man laughed. “That’s the one!” Then he leaned forward, growing serious. “But you wouldn’t need that. Seriously. Basic lasts you a few hours, enough to get you through a family dinner or something. Keeps the wife happy, makes sure I’m not setting a bad example for my kid.”

“And she knows about this?” the Doctor asked skeptically. The man shrugged.

“Knows I take them. Doesn’t mind, after a point. I mean, it’s my choice, isn’t it? And it’s not like I’m doing it for the high. I’m doing it for her.”

“For her,” the Doctor repeated absently. Slow wheels in her head were turning. The problem was, it made an inordinate amount of sense. She knew enough of relaxi-tabs to recognize the dangers. She was a Time Lord, for Rassilon’s sake. A one time relaxation drug wouldn’t leave her with much more than a quiet evening.

A peaceful evening. One empty of conflict, and full of the kind of fun the fam would enjoy. The Doctor, happy. Them, satisfied. Everything back to normal, and no need for another fight.

She just had to get her head together. Not for the entire vacation. Just to get her head together.

The man shook his head, then leaned back in his chair, waving a hand. He chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. Not to advertise. I just—I recognize it, you know? I can see it on your face.”

“See what on my face?” the Doctor asked.

The man gestured loosely. “You know. The stress. The ‘oh my god I’m letting them down.’ And look—I’m not saying it’s a permanent solution. But—” He shrugged. “To get through a family fight or two? Hell, I think it’s worth it.”

“Worth it to be drugged?” The Doctor frowned, though it wasn’t entirely there. Because the man wasn’t drugged, not really. The Doctor could read it in his face. He was only…relaxed.

It would be stupid, she thought. Incredibly stupid.

Except what, another part of her wondered, were exactly the dangers?

“Earl!” The woman was calling from the pool, waving her hand. So was the little girl, a happy grin spread across her face. Earl turned in his seat and waved, and the Doctor watched him as he did so. He looked utterly calm. Happy, even. Certainly enjoying his vacation.

“Well, that’s my break over.” He winked at the Doctor, then scooped up his drink and downed it in one gulp. Then he turned, and began to shoulder his way between the patrons. His eyes were fixed upon his family, a grin still playing at his face.

The robot bartender slid a glass of water to the Doctor, who took it without thinking, but didn’t bother to take a sip. Rather, she gazed absentmindedly across the deck, watching the patrons laugh and joke. Many of them, she noticed, had relaxi-tabs on. Hidden by hair, tucked behind their ears. The fam wouldn’t even see it.

The robot bartender, though it had delivered her order, didn’t move away. Instead it stood, in that mechanical stillness that robots had, just across from her, its digital smile serene upon its face.

“Is there anything else you would like?” it asked, smiling.

“Uh, no,” the Doctor said, without turning around. Still, the robot didn’t move off.

“Perfect! We hope you enjoy your evening. In addition, if you would like to partake in our relaxation treatment—”

Again, again, again. Would they ever leave her alone? the Doctor wondered. Clearly not. Her stress levels were too high, too noticeable. Seeping out of every pore, visible to the attendants, affecting the fam. Ruining their vacation.

Without warning, she swiveled in her chair, and planted her elbows upon the bar. She studied the robot for a long time before speaking.

“Alright,” she said. “Tell me about your basic option.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful response to the last chapter! I'm so glad to see that people want to read this as much as I wanted to write it! Next chapter will be in the next few days, for sure. In the meantime, I'm like BUZZING for the episode today. Like, dying.

By the time Yaz met Ryan and Graham outside of their rooms, it was a quarter to seven, and the Doctor was nowhere to be found. 

“Oh, don’t tell me she’s still exploring,” Graham grumbled. “Or investigating, I should say.”

“ _Don’t_ say the I word, Graham,” Ryan said. “You’ll only jinx us.” 

“Bit late for that, if she’s not even back yet.” Graham glanced once more at his watch, then sighed. “C’mon. If she’s meeting us, she’s meeting us. I’m not waiting for dinner, though.”

“When do you ever?” Ryan asked, but he was smiling as he said it, and he accompanied it with a gentle cuff to the shoulder. “Alright. The Doctor told us where to meet anyway, didn’t she? Topside restaurant?”

“That’s what the note said,” Yaz replied. “What do you reckon are the odds she’ll be there?”

Graham shrugged. “If she’s found something? Hundred percent. If she hasn’t, I mean—“

“Doubt it,” Ryan said. “Can’t even stand to spend a few hours with us at the pool. Don’t see her sitting through dinner, if I’m being honest.”

“C’mon, Ryan,” Yaz said, but even she felt a flicker of doubt. Who was to say the Doctor would even join them? And even if she did—well, there was conflict to be resolved, something Yaz specialized in. Only she didn’t particularly feel like solving this one. Family disputes were the hardest to solve, and friendships just behind. Yaz wasn’t even sure where this one fell. Their little team sat uneasily between family and friends, listing ever so slightly one way or the other.

Lately, it had been listing towards friends. Soon enough, Yaz knew, if they didn’t solve it, the whole thing would topple.

She didn’t say any of her worries out loud, however. And when Ryan only shrugged in response, she didn’t argue. Instead, she just sighed, and turned down the hallway.

Whatever problems the Doctor would bring, Yaz could only hope they’d wait until after dinner.

The Doctor wasn’t at the entrance to the topside restaurant. She also wasn’t inside, and Yaz couldn’t miss the look Ryan and Graham exchanged as they requested a table for four. Nor could she miss the drop in her stomach, the same drop she always got when things were amiss. It was her first instinct, and usually her most reliable. 

She could only hope it was wrong this time.

The robot waitress led them to a booth with red leather seats and a table of dark wood, and passed out menus before stepping back and issuing a chirpy greeting.

“Welcome to our restaurant! All specials are listed on the menu. Would you like to hear about our relaxation treatment?”

“Again with the relaxation treatment,” Graham muttered, before glancing up and giving the waitress a weak smile. “Ah, no thanks. We’re all set here.”

The waitress simply smiled and dipped her head. “Glad to hear! I’ll be back momentarily to take your orders.”

With that she turned on her heel and glided off, leaving Yaz, Ryan and Graham to watch her go.

“They’re a little creepy, aren’t they?” Ryan said after a moment.

“Little bit, yeah.” Yaz was busy scanning the restaurant, craning her neck to catch sight of the Doctor. “She should be here by now, shouldn’t she?”

Graham shrugged, and lifted his menu towards him. “Yaz, I hate to say it, but we can’t hound after her. Way she’s acting, we’ll only raise our blood pressure. If she wants to eat, she can join us.”

“Yeah, but—“ Yaz still had anxious eyes upon the entrance to restaurant. As she watched, the doors opened, and a family stepped through. No—not a family. A girl and her mother, vaguely familiar. It took a moment for Yaz to place them.

Of course—they had been with the rude man who had argued with the robot, before the Doctor had intervened. His wife and daughter, if Yaz recalled correctly. The man was nowhere to be seen, but Yaz caught the mother’s eye as she followed another robot to a booth across the room. She studied Yaz for a moment, before her eyes moved uneasily over Ryan and Graham, lips tightly pursed.

Probably, Yaz thought, she had them grouped in with the Doctor’s behavior. Thought they were the same way, or at least, had taken her side. A flash of regret surged through her, and before she had time to think it through, she was on her feet.

“Yaz?” Ryan looked up from his menu, puzzled. “Where you going?”

“Talk to somebody,” Yaz answered. She was still looking at the lady, who was now examining her own menu. “I’ll be right back.”

“But—“ Graham called, but Yaz was already moving across the room, and his voice faded off into nonplussed silence behind her.

She wasn’t sure why she wanted to talk to her. Maybe because she felt responsible, a little bit, for the Doctor’s behavior. That she should have kept a closer eye on her, or should have intervened sooner. 

Or maybe because, for reasons she couldn’t entirely explain, she felt something in common. The woman’s embarrassed air earlier that day had matched the same feeling Yaz had felt when the Doctor had gotten between the robot and the man—an _oh what’s she gone and done now_ sort of feeling. Somehow, should Yaz go to apologize, she had a feeling the woman wouldn’t turn her away. At the very least, she would probably understand.

“Hi!” Yaz chirped as she approached the booth, a winning smile upon her face. Both the woman and the little girl looked up from their menus, the little girl curious, the mother vaguely suspicious. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Um—” There was plenty of room in the booth. Still, the mother regarded Yaz for a few seconds before slowly nodding. “Sure. Alda, make some room.”

“Sure!” the girl piped up with a grin, and hurried to scoot over for Yaz, who took the seat with great care, so as not to disturb the crayoned-in children’s menu Alda had been working on. “I’m Alda.”

“And I’m Yaz.” Yaz grinned at her, then stuck out a hand. The little girl solemnly took her three fingers, all she could grasp in her small hand, and shook it. 

“And I’m Sofia,” the woman put in, her gaze flickering between Yaz and Alda. At Alda’s apparent acceptance of Yaz, she appeared to soften slightly. “Sorry, but did you need something—?”

“Not at all,” Yaz answered immediately. She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and folding her hands in front of her. The same way she had seen her superiors talk to family when delivering bad news. “I just wanted to apologize, actually.”

Sofia leaned back, her eyebrows raising. “Apologize? For what?”

“For my friend,” Yaz said. “And her behavior earlier, towards your—?”

“Husband,” Sofia completed for her. “And it’s fine. Really, not a problem. It was Earl who started the whole thing, anyway. Though I’m not sure why your friend decided to put herself in the middle of it.”

“She has a way of doing that.” Yaz grimaced. “A little too much, sometimes. I probably should have stepped in earlier. But—”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, really.” This time, Sofia had a smile on her face, small but genuine. “Like I said, it’s not a problem. And I’m used to it, I hate to say. Earl has a habit for getting into arguments. Especially lately.”

“Really?” Yaz studied her sympathetically. Kinship, some part of her mind whispered. She pushed it away, but couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward, interested. “You know, if I’m being honest, the Doctor—that’s my friend—has been a bit like that too, lately.”

Sofia pursed her lips. “Oh, let me guess—she’s the invited guest, and you’re the plus one—er, three?”

“Huh?” Yaz stared at her, puzzled. “What do you mean, invited? I mean, we all have tickets—”

Or something like that, she thought. She wasn’t entirely sure what the Doctor had them down for, or for that matter, as. 

But Sofia just waved her hand. “Oh, you know. This cruise is so exclusive, only certain guests are allowed to buy tickets. You know, important people. Government officials, business heads. My Earl is the CEO of Alvastry Industries.”

She said this as if it were supposed to mean something. Yaz just nodded, and dredged up what she hoped to be an impressed look. “Oh, yeah. No, she’s really important, actually. We’re just here with her.”

Sofia nodded knowingly. “I get it. It’s a huge privilege. I mean, well—” she tilted her head, considering. “It’s a luxury. Especially since I know he works so hard to get us things like these, but—” she winced. “Sometimes, I think I would rather have just gone camping, you know?”

“Sure,” Yaz replied, though she wasn’t sure she agreed. Camping was nice, but most of their adventures were a bit more hair-raising than the occasional outdoor excavation. She couldn’t say she was unhappy about the cruise. “I mean, camping’s nice.”

“Oh, I hate camping.” Sofia gave a smile, which widened at Yaz’s confused look. “No, really. Did it a ton when I was a child, and I swore I’d never do it again. But Earl? He loves camping. Never does it though, because work has him too busy. Which, you know, means too busy to talk to us.” Her mouth twisted on the last words. “So he takes us on a cruise to make up for it.”

“Oh.” Yaz nodded, a sympathetic look upon her face. Or perhaps it edged closer to empathy, because Sofia’s words rung uncomfortably true. What was the Doctor doing, after all, except dropping them on a cruise to distract them from whatever it was she didn’t want to talk about? Treating them like children to be shut up, or a family to dote on, rather than to be part of. 

“Least the cruise is nice, though,” she added after a long moment of silence. “I mean, if he’s going to take you somewhere, might as well be a someplace nice, yeah?”

“I guess so.” Sofia sighed, then glanced to the door before looking back to Yaz. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—he’s shaped up since this afternoon. Finally got that option he was talking about.”

It took Yaz a moment to realize what she was talking about. “Oh—the relaxi-tabs?”

“Yep.” Sofia grinned, relief mingling into her expression, which dropped when she saw the look on Yaz’s face. “Oh no—it’s not like that. They’re not drugs, you know. Well, they’re not addictive.”

Except for humans, Yaz recalled, but she didn’t say that. She only nodded. “And these, er—they help?”

Sofia sighed. “Well, they just take his mind off the stress, you know? Let him separate work from life, and whatever’s bothering him. Which he’ll never talk about,” she added quickly. “Too busy trying to be the protector, or some old fashioned nonsense. I swear, sometimes I—”

“Sometimes you what, dear?”

Both Yaz and Sofia swiveled around, but it was Alda who spoke first. “Daddy!” she cried, and put down her crayons, her hands reaching for him.

Quickly, before Yaz could get into another argument—she had no idea if he remembered her—she slid from the booth and stood, taking a step back just to be safe. The man—Earl—leaned down and scooped Alda up, bouncing her in his arms as she giggled. Then, he turned to Yaz.

“Hello,” he said. There was a dreamy, smooth smile upon his face, a stark contrast to the contorted rage Yaz had seen before. “We met, didn’t we?”

“Uh, yeah.” Yaz was edging backwards before she realized she was doing it. Earl only continued to smile, his gaze distant and his smile stretched like putty. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Yaz was just apologizing for her friend earlier,” Sofia said. She was watching Earl, who continued to gaze at Yaz, though he didn’t appear entirely focused. “She said some nice things.”

“Did I?” Yaz said. “I mean—yeah! And I’m sorry. About earlier.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Earl said. “Nothing to worry about.”

But there was no inflection in his tone, no anger—or for that matter, forgiveness. He was floating free, Yaz realized, barely tethered to the conversation. Was this what the relaxi-tabs did? Vaguely, she wondered how Sofia could ever consider that a proper solution to familial dispute.

Except that even Sofia was looking at Earl strangely, a concerned look upon her face. As Yaz watched, her eyes ran over him, then she bit her lip.

“I’ll, uh—just get going,” Yaz said, before she could get involved for the second time in some kind of family squabble. She had, she thought bemusedly, enough of that on her own side.

Quickly she turned, not waiting for Sofia or the others to say goodbye, and started off towards her table. Behind her, she only caught the tail end of Sofia’s worried sentence.

“Earl, honey? Why don’t you sit—”

Yaz shook her head as she made her way back to the boys. Only Graham and Ryan were there, drinks in front of them but looking otherwise disgruntled as she slid into her seat.

“Oh, there you are,” Graham grumbled. “’Bout to go looking.” He opened his menu once more. “Now we can order.”

“Now?” Yaz looked between the two of them. “But the Doctor isn’t here yet.”

Graham and Ryan exchanged a glance. Then, Ryan shrugged. 

“Well, it’s nearly half past seven, and it’s not like we’re going to spend the whole evening—”

“Waiting for me?” a new, cheery voice sounded. Immediately, relief surged through Yaz. Together, the three of them turned.

“Doctor—” Yaz opened her mouth, unsure what to say—thank god you’re here? We waited for you?—but the Doctor was already sliding into the booth beside her, and tossing one lazy arm over the back. She sat like that, loosely sprawled, and gave them all a big grin.

“Sorry I’m late,” she told the three, who only stared. “Had a bit too much fun exploring. Lost track of the time.”

“Had fun exploring,” Graham repeated. “I don’t suppose that has to do with investigating?”

“The I word, Graham,” Ryan hissed. But the Doctor didn’t seem to pick up on it. She only grinned wider, and remarkably cheerful. As if she didn’t have a care in the world.

A welcome change, Yaz thought, from the hours before. Only she couldn’t imagine what had caused it.

“Don’t worry, Graham!” the Doctor told him. “We’re good on that front. Went through the whole ship, or almost, and this cruise is safe as a starfish.”

“Safe as a starfish?” Ryan asked. Amusement twitched at his lips. The Doctor only bobbed her head happily.

“Right on, Ryan!” she hit him with a grin that had Yaz drawing back, despite herself. Above her, she could almost feel the presence of the Doctor’s arm hanging off the booth, close enough for Yaz to touch, if she should so wish. Except that the Doctor didn’t like being touched, and most certainly didn’t put herself in position to be touched. 

“Starfish are perfectly safe,” the Doctor was saying. “Safe to touch, though you have to be careful not to hurt them. But that’s the way it always is, isn’t it?” Her grin widened. “Poke too much, you can hurt anything, I reckon.”

“Right,” Yaz said. She was still staring at the Doctor. Gauging. Where had her foul mood gone? Had she really gotten over it in the matter of a few hours? Sure, Yaz had seen her shuffle emotions away in the blink of an eye, but lately—lately—

Lately, she hadn’t been acting like herself. Now, she was. Yaz couldn’t fathom the switch.

“So, the cruise is safe then, right?” Graham leaned forward, concerned. “Because I have to say, Doc, I ain’t about—”

The Doctor laughed, which was entirely unlike her, and waved a dismissive hand. “’Course it is, Graham! I would never take you lot anywhere unsafe. Care about you too much.”

“Oh. Right.” Graham drew back, not entirely convinced. “Guess the last fifty trips don’t count, then.”

“Those were accidents,” Yaz reminded him, but she was still staring at the Doctor. There was something odd in the way she was speaking. A bit too open— _I care about you too much_. Yaz knew the Doctor cared about them plenty—had seen her place her own body between the three and danger more than she could count. But she had never said it in so many words.

“Are you feeling alright, Doctor?” she asked, only for the Doctor to swivel to face her. Her grin was bright, and, as far as Yaz could tell, entirely genuine.

“I feel brilliant!” she exclaimed, with a buoyant look. It dropped slightly at Yaz’s uncertain gaze. “Why, do I seem off?”

“No,” Yaz said, which wasn’t entirely true. “You just seem—”

“Happy, all of a sudden.” It was Ryan who leaned forward, his hands clasped and his gaze fixed upon the Doctor, suspicious. “Loads happier than earlier. Did something happen?”

“Something happen?” The Doctor turned to face him, faux outrage on her face, which dropped the moment she caught the genuine concern upon his face. Her voice turned soft. “Well, no. I mean, actually—” 

She leaned back, slumping against the booth, and gave a shrug. “Truth is, I had a think about what you lot were saying. And you’re right. I’ve been in a nasty mood lately, and I’ve been taking it out on my friends. It’s not right of me.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, though he was staring utterly baffled. His gaze flicked to Yaz, and in it she caught an instant of disbelief—is this really happening?—before it was back upon the Doctor, once more intent. “I mean—well, you were. No offense. But thanks, Doctor. It’s nice to hear you apologize.”

“Takes a strong person to apologize like that,” Graham said with a grin. “Then, I wouldn’t have had doubts.”

The Doctor’s gaze flickered to him, and her grin widened again, though now, Yaz couldn’t help but catch a hint of flimsiness. Why, she wasn’t sure, but a moment later it was gone, disappeared into honest relief.

“Thank you, guys,” she said. “I appreciate it. And you know what?” She leaned forward and swiped a menu, grinning. “How about we get a fresh start? New dinner, new attitude, new—ow!”

She broke off, hand going to her ear, and that was all that Yaz saw, for a moment later, the restaurant was plunged into darkness. Only for a moment, barely enough for a few cries of shock to go up, and then the lights flickered back on. The quiet background music, which had stopped with the lights, started up again.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Graham glanced around the restaurant, at the other confused patrons, then turned to the Doctor. “Oi, you best not have been kidding about there being no—”

“I wasn’t kidding,” the Doctor said. She looked as confused as the rest of them. As Yaz watched, a hand rose to touch her earlobe, then swiftly lowered. “Didn’t see any signs of electrical failure when I was looking around. Actually, the ship looked ship-shape.”

She chuckled at her own wording, as Yaz and the others stared. The Doctor didn’t look entirely concerned. Actually, she didn’t look concerned at all. Her eyes were drifting back to the menu, her fingers going to turn the page.

“I think we should investigate,” Yaz said, ignoring the immediate groan from Graham. Her eyes instead remained fixed upon the Doctor. “Right, Doctor? That didn’t look good, whatever it was.”

Slowly, the Doctor looked up from her menu. 

“It was just a black out,” she said. “Probably fine. I mean—”

She didn’t want to investigate. Neither did Graham, of course, nor did Ryan look very interested, but for _the_ _Doctor_ to not want to investigate—?

Yaz stared, and couldn’t help the feeling that something was entirely amiss.

“I think we should investigate,” she repeated firmly, and with a warning glance at the others. One by one, they nodded reluctantly. “I think we should find out what’s the matter. Don’t you think, Doctor?”

“I—” The Doctor looked regretfully at her menu once more, then sighed and closed it. “Okay. Quick look around. Then back to dinner. I’m hungry.”

“That’s my line,” Graham grumbled, but even he didn’t argue as they rose from the table, though he did glance behind them regretfully. So did the Doctor, Yaz noticed, and she didn’t lead the way, but lingered, leaving it to Yaz to take the lead.

Weird, Yaz thought. Proper weird. And what was worse, was that it appeared to be affecting the Doctor as well. If she hadn’t just magically pulled herself out of her foul mood by herself. 

No. Yaz couldn’t buy it. And whatever it was, she decided, she would get to the bottom of it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the wonderful response to last chapter! More angst is definitely coming your way. This is only a short story (10 chapters) so we're about halfway through! Hopefully, yall are still enjoying.

“Where to, Doc?” Graham called back, to a seemingly inattentive Doctor. When Yaz glanced back, the Doctor had stopped, and was examining a painting upon the wall, the kind with the name of the artist and a short description of the scene.

“Mmm?” the Doctor called back. She was examining the painting intently. Yaz sidled up beside her.

“Something important in it?” she asked. When the Doctor didn’t immediately answer, she peered closer. The painting showed nothing but the setting sun on a sparkling sea. The description underneath read: _the Windovian triangle. A beautiful section of the Wesvelian sea, rarely traversed by ships due to rumors of deadly telepathic activity. Scientists have long studied this section of the Wesvelian sea, and found telepathic activity to be weak and harmless to passing ships. Still, many captains stay away for superstition’s sake._

“Interesting,” Yaz observed with a tiny glance to the Doctor. She wasn’t even reading the description, Yaz noticed, but staring at the painting itself, though she didn’t appear to be taking it in. She didn’t appear to be focusing on anything at all. 

“Doctor?” Yaz asked after another long moment. “You okay?”

“Me?” The Doctor tore her gaze from the painting, and hit Yaz with a big smile. “Yeah, I’m fine! What’s up?”

“We’re investigating, remember?” Yaz said. “Figuring out what caused the black out?”

For a moment, it truly looked as if the Doctor didn’t remember. She stared at Yaz, baffled, then broke into an enthusiastic grin. 

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we be?” She stepped forward and shoved her hands into her pockets, her coat swishing. “Could do with a bit of food first, don’t you think? The robot said there’s a dining hall—“

“Yeah, but this is important,” Yaz interrupted, though even she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. There had been no black outs in the time they had descended below deck. The other guests they had passed seem unperturbed, as had the robots. “I mean, just to make sure. Put us at ease.”

“Put you at ease.” The Doctor nodded, suddenly serious. “Right, right. Investigating. Where should we start?”

“Er—“ Behind Yaz, Graham cleated his throat. “Usually you tell us that, Doc.”

The Doctor looked between him and Yaz, mouth open. Then, she shut it. “I—‘course I do! I always do. That’s my job.”

“Right,” Ryan said beside Yaz. He too was now watching the Doctor, bemused. “So...what should we do?”

“Uh—“ The Doctor seemed a little bit, Yaz thought, at a loss. So much so, in fact, that Yaz almost took pity on her. Before she could, however, the Doctor recovered, plastering another large grin upon her face.

“Ooh, I got it!” she exclaimed. “We’re on a ship, aren’t we? And who’s in charge of the ship?”

Yaz looked to Ryan, who shrugged. “Uh, the captain?”

“Right you are, Ryan!” The Doctor jabbed a delighted finger at him. “Ten points—no, a hundred points! Because that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“Do?” Ryan asked. “Do what?”

The Doctor’s grin widened. “We’re going to speak to the captain.”

——————

Yaz expected the Doctor to lead them to a bridge, or something similar. Certainly something atop the ship. However, instead, they descended two more flights of stairs and stopped outside a nondescript gray door which read _control room_.

“Control room,” Graham read out loud. “You sure this is where the captain works, Doctor? Thought he’d be on a bridge, or something. Like Star Trek.”

“Star Trek is terribly inaccurate, Graham,” the Doctor replied absently. She was far more focused on rummaging around in her coat for her sonic. “Most ships beyond your century don’t require a bridge. This cruise ship has one just for show. Most of the steering of the ship is done—here!”

With a buzz of the sonic, the lock clicked open. The Doctor wasted no time, but turned the handle and pushed the door open, leaving it swinging as she stepped inside.

“Hey, who are you?” A man, who Yaz immediately took to be the captain, thanks to his flat, round hat and stiff white uniform, spun around. His eyes flitted over their little foursome, narrowing as he took in their decidedly non-uniform clothes. 

“Oh, hi.” The Doctor gave him a cheery wave, then shoved both hands into her pockets and stepped forward. “Are you the captain? I like your dials.”

He did have a lot of dials behind him, Yaz observed, not to mention buttons and screens and loads of other controls. He didn’t seem to appreciate the Doctor’s compliment, however.

“Are you guests?” he growled. “How’d you get in here?”

“Tried the door,” the Doctor replied. “It was locked. Are you the captain?”

“Of course I’m the captain!” the man retorted. “My name is Charles Green, and I’m in command of this vessel. Now, how did you get in here?”

“Er, Doctor,” Ryan whispered. “Good time to get the psychic paper out.”

“Psychic paper?” the Doctor said, a little too loudly for subtlety. “Oh, right.” She rummaged around in her pocket, then yanked it out and shoved it in the captain’s face, forceful enough to send him stumbling back against the controls. “Here you go! Cruise inspectors, at your service. Here to inspect the, er—service.”

“Service.” The captain repeated in disbelief, his eyes skimming over the paper before moving back to the Doctor’s face. “What service are you actually inspecting that requires you to break into my control room?”

“Huh?” The Doctor wrinkled her nose as she shoved the psychic paper back into her coat pocket. “Oh. Well, the dining, for one thing. Haven’t had a bite to eat since I’ve arrived, and—“

“Doctor.” Yaz let out an unsubtle cough. “The black out.”

“Oh—oh, right!” Immediately, the Doctor switched tact. “The black out. There was a black out. I think. Anyway, do you know anything about that?”

The captain stared at the Doctor. His eyes darted to Ryan, Yaz, and Graham, then came back to her. Then he straightened, and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but it’s a bit early for me to identify the cause of the black out. I am aware of it, but I still haven’t gotten to the bottom of it. Actually—“ he gestured to the controls behind them— “I was working on that right now. Well, before you interrupted.”

The implication was clear. _Get out_. Yaz didn’t buy it for a second. Neither did Ryan or Graham—she could hear them shifting behind her. 

The Doctor, for a second, just stared, nonplussed. Her eyes went to the controls, and for a moment, Yaz felt sure she was about to call him out on—on _something._ Something she had surely spotted, that the rest of them had missed. Something that would put them on track to solve whatever funny business was going on around here.

Then, she bobbed her head. “Well, alright then! That’s a good point. We’ll leave you to your, er—work, Captain Green. Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“And yours,” Captain Green replied, though he didn’t at all look it. He dipped his head, then gestured to the door. “Now, if you’ll, uh—”

The Doctor glanced to the door. ‘Oh—right! Well, c’mon, gang. Lots to see, right?”

“What?” Yaz said in disbelief. “But, Doctor—”

But the Doctor was already ducking out the door, leaving the fam with no choice but to follow, though Yaz couldn’t help but cast an uncertain glance behind her, to the captain. He was watching them leave, a small frown upon his face.

No way he knew nothing, Yaz thought. Not with the way he wanted them to leave. At the very least, it was suspicious enough to check out.

Except apparently, the Doctor didn’t think so. As they gathered in the hallway, the door swinging shut behind them, the Doctor turned and clapped her hands together.

“Well, that’s that! Mystery put to rest. What do you say, fam? Dining hall?”

“What?” Yaz stared at her. “Doctor, we didn’t discover a single thing! Why would we go to the dining hall?”

The Doctor only looked at her, baffled. “Because I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”

Yaz hesitated. “A little bit, but—”

“A lot, actually,” Graham piped up behind her. Yaz twisted to shoot him a glare.

“But we’re going to finish investigating, right?” Her voice held a warning. When Graham opened his mouth to protest, Yaz jerked her head in the direction of the Doctor, who now had bent over to examine the carpeting. He shut his mouth slowly, then pursed his lips, unhappy but agreeable.

“Yeah, Yaz is right,” Ryan put in. When Yaz turned around, she found him watching the Doctor, a worried frown upon his face. The Doctor meanwhile, paid no notice. Her eyes were upon the carpeting still, and she was turning in a slow circle, as if trying to examine something.

“Doctor,” Ryan said after a moment. “Are you okay?”

The Doctor’s head shot up, and she hit him with a rather lazy grin. “’Course I am, Ryan. What were you saying? Food?”

“No,” Yaz said firmly. “Investigating. We’re still investigating, Doctor. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Okay?” the Doctor echoed. “Don’t I look okay? I’m brilliant, Yaz! Just—uh, investigating the carpet. Making sure it was all in order.”

“Right.” Yaz stared at her uneasily. “And was it?”

The Doctor bobbed her head, a toothy grin upon her face. “Spectacular! Nothing wrong with it. Not as nice as the carpet in the restaurant, however. Which, speaking of—”

“You’re right, mate.” Ryan’s eyes were still upon the Doctor, but his words were to Yaz. “She’s not okay.”

“Is she?” Yaz asked. Her mind spun. What on earth could affect the Doctor in so little time? She had seemed okay in the restaurant—no, she’d seemed better than okay. Now she seemed a little too okay. Like she was overcompensating. Trying too hard, except that at the same time, she didn’t seem to be trying at all. Her grin was easy and genuine.

“I think we should investigate,” Yaz said again, loudly. Her eyes stayed fixed upon the Doctor. “Figure out what’s going on.”

The Doctor’s face fell. “But I’m—”

“Hungry, we know,” Ryan said. “But let’s figure out what’s going on first, yeah? Then we can eat peacefully.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Graham said, though he sounded distinctly unhappy about it. “Let’s get this through with. Can you tell us anything, Doc?”

The Doctor stared. “About what?”

Beside her, Ryan stifled a huff. “About the investigation, Doctor,” he growled. “You know. You were looking around earlier, yeah? Didn’t you find any—any rooms or something? Suspicious doors?”

“Doors,” the Doctor repeated. “Suspicious.” She cast Yaz a woeful look, as if to say, _why are you making me do this?_ Yaz didn’t answer. What was she meant to say? That they thought something was deeply wrong, and the Doctor might be affected? Somehow, she couldn’t see the Doctor buying into that.

“Yeah, doors,” Ryan said. “Or rooms, or hallways, or people who looked sort of off. Anything.”

_People who looked sort of off._ Suddenly, Yaz flashed back to Sofia and Alda, and their reaction to Earl when he’d arrived. He’d been off, hadn’t he? Totally out of it. In fact, he’d almost acted like—

No. Yaz eyed the Doctor, who now appeared deep in thought. A little too deep, as if, once again, she was trying too hard. But she didn’t look as out of it as Earl had been. She didn’t look drugged. She only looked…

…like she didn’t care.

Yaz bit her lip, worried. “Doctor—”

“Oh!” All of a sudden, the Doctor straightened, and clapped her hands together. “Rooms! I know rooms! There were rooms they wouldn’t let me into!”

“Who wouldn’t let you into?” Graham asked. 

“The robots!” The Doctor was beaming, like a child giving the correct answer to the teacher. “The psychic paper wouldn’t work on them, so I couldn’t check the rooms. Engine room, specifically. That’s the most interesting. Love engines, me.”

“We know,” Yaz said. She glanced to Ryan, who returned a worried look. She could read the question in his eyes: _is she okay?_

She didn’t know how to answer him. But maybe, she thought, their investigation might. 

She turned back to the Doctor, and fixed a smile upon her face. “Sounds great, Doctor. Engine room it is.”

“Perfect!” The Doctor clapped her hands together, loud in the hush of the hallway, then spun on her heel, wobbling slightly. “Let’s go, fam! I mean, allons-y!”

“Allons-y?” Graham mouthed at Yaz as he passed. She could only shake her head at him.

The engine room was another two flights of stairs down, in an area which, as they descended, became more and more apparently separate from the guest section. The carpet disappeared into gray, grimy flooring, and the walls turned to welded metal, studded with bolts.

The underbelly, Yaz thought. If there could be such a thing on a ship.

The Doctor wrinkled her nose as they arrived at the engine room—a gray door labeled simply as such—and looked around.

“Funny,” she said. “Last time the robots stopped me. Don’t see any hanging around, though.”

“Maybe they’re upstairs,” Ryan suggested. “Bet the other guests have plenty of questions, with the black out and all.”

“Would they?” Graham said. When Ryan looked at him, he nodded towards the Doctor, who had stepped forward, and was busy tracing the letters of the engine room sign rather dreamily with her finger. She wasn’t moving at all to open it. “I mean—“ Graham’s voice dropped to a low whisper— “Look at her. If everybody else is like that—“

“Yeah, I think I get you,” Yaz said. She watched the Doctor for a moment, then stepped forward. “Doctor? Are you going to open the door?”

The Doctor turned to her, a quizzical look upon her face. 

“Am I?” she asked. She appeared rather amused. “Why? We’ve found it, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, but we want to go in it,” Ryan pointed out. “Remember? Came to investigate? Not to stare at a door?”

The Doctor made a face. “Oi, sounds rather stressful if you ask me. Why don’t we just go off and find the dining—“

“We’re not finding the dining hall!” Yaz exclaimed in exasperation. “Doctor, something is very wrong here, and we have to figure out what it is!”

“Wrong?” The Doctor stared at her. “What’s wrong? I already told you lot, I made sure this entire cruise is utterly—augh!”

She doubled over, her hand flying to her ear, her face screwed up in pain, and without thinking, Yaz stepped forward. “Doctor—!”

Just then, the hallway plunged into darkness. Yaz stopped, disoriented, and from somewhere in front of her, heard the Doctor groan.

Then, as quickly as they had dimmed, the lights flickered on again. The Doctor, doubled over, straightened unsteadily. Her hand fell from her ear.

“Well, that was a trip, huh?” She looked up at the ceiling, frowning. “Wonder what that was about.”

She sounded utterly unbothered, except for the barest trace of dulled curiosity. Yaz stared. “Wonder what—are you kidding me? Doctor, that black out hurt you!”

“Who, me?” The Doctor patted herself, as if searching for injury. She didn’t seem to find one, and after a moment, shot Yaz a loose, lazy grin. “Nah, I’m fine. Brilliant, actually. Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“I—“ Yaz gaped. Then, she spun around to face the others.

“You saw that, right?”

One by one, they nodded.

“Yaz is right, Doc,” Graham called over her shoulder. “Something happened to you there.”

“Yeah, I saw it too.” Ryan stepped towards her, frowning. “That black out hit you. And you were reaching for your ear.”

“My ear?” The Doctor’s hand came up to her right earlobe. Then, as if she had realized what she was doing, she quickly lowered it. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Told you, I feel great.”

“No. No way.” Yaz too turned back to face her, hands on her hips. “Doctor, that was affecting you, and we need to see what—“

“Oh, this is what we were talking about!” Without warning, the Doctor rushed to the engine room door, pressing both palms against it. “An engine room! I love an engine room!”

“Oi, don’t change the—“ Graham began, but the Doctor was already reaching into her pocket, her cheek pressed against the door, though Yaz couldn’t determine why. She pulled out her sonic and, with a rather loopy grin, pointed it at the handle. With a click, it unlocked.

“Shall we?” she asked the other three, and didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, her body still pressed against the door, she reached for the handle and pressed it down. The door immediately swung inward, sending her toppling.

“Doctor—!” Ryan lunged to catch her, but she managed to regain her balance, staggering into the room with an utterly uncharacteristic giggle.

“Forgot how fun investigating could be!” she called over her shoulder. “Though I still think we should hit the dining hall after, because I am—whoa.”

She halted, leaving the others to tumble in after her, only to stop in their tracks as they saw what she was staring at.

“Whoa,” Ryan echoed. “That....doesn’t look like an engine.”

“It isn’t one,” the Doctor said, grinning like a loon. “It’s—well, I don’t know what it is. Isn’t it brilliant?”

Brilliant was one word to describe it, Yaz thought. Eerie was another, for though the enormous contraption, tall enough to reach her shoulder, appeared to be built of a burnished bronze metal, and glowed with a ghostly green inner light, plunging the entire room in shades of sickly green.

“Oh my god,” Yaz breathed. “Doctor, that’s got to be what’s affecting the ship. It’s got to be causing the black outs!”

“Does it?” The Doctor frowned, and took a step forward. “I dunno. Looks a little green to me.”

“So?” Graham asked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well then, why would it be causing _black_ outs?” the Doctor asked, then clapped her hand over her mouth to cover a sniggering laugh.

Yaz stared at her. So did Ryan and Graham, with frowns that deepened as the Doctor’s laughter dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, spilling through her fingers.

“That wasn’t funny, Doc,” Graham said after a long moment. 

“It wasn’t funny at all,” Ryan stated, a frown tugging down the corners of his lips. “Doctor, c’mon. This is important.”

“Oh. Oh, right!” The Doctor straightened and spun back to the machine, only to nearly fall. “Oh, that was fast. Too fast. Not sure which way I’m facing.”

“ _Doctor_.” Yaz strode forward just as the Doctor made to spin around again, and caught her by the shoulders. She held her in place, ignoring the Doctor’s pout, and peered closely at her face. “What’s wrong with you?”

Behind her, she heard Ryan and Graham creep up as well, curiosity and concern dragging them forward.

“Might be the black outs,” Graham said. “Did you see the way she reacted? Like it hurt her.”

“Yeah.” Yaz frowned and peered closer, a difficult task considering the Doctor had taken it upon herself to wiggle like a fish in a desperate attempt to escape her grasp. “Doctor, please be honest. Did something happen to you while you were investigating?”

“Me? No!” the Doctor exclaimed, and yanked uselessly away. “Oi, you’re strong. Anyone ever told you how strong you are?”

“Yes,” Yaz said impatiently. She was still searching her face, trying to decipher whatever it was that had happened. Or _when_ it had happened. Because things had been fine at dinner, right? Or before dinner? Or maybe—

Beside her, Ryan sidled up, a deep frown upon his face. He didn’t speak, but only watched the Doctor, brow wrinkled.

“Doctor,” Yaz repeated, even though she had a feeling it wouldn’t help. “C’mon, please. We’re just trying to help you. We’re worried.”

But at this the Doctor drew back, appalled. “Why would you be worried?” she asked. “I’m fine! Look at me, I’m fine!”

Her hands came up to gesture at herself, then fell to Yaz’s arms in an unsubtle attempt to push her away. When it didn’t work, a frown drew across her face. “You don’t have to touch me, you know! I really don’t like being—“

“Did you talk to one of the robots?” Ryan interrupted. Yaz looked at him in confusion. So too did the Doctor.

“Talk to the robots?” she asked. “About what? They’re terrible conversationalists, you know. Never even—hey!”

She wrenched back as Ryan’s hand came up to her ear, this time hard and desperate enough to send Yaz stumbling back, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. Though she ducked, hands going up as if to shoo him away, Ryan caught her hand, and with his other, pushed her hair back from her ear.

“Ryan, lad, don’t—“ Graham asked, only to cut off at his cry.

“I knew it!”

“Knew what?” Yaz craned forward, desperate to see, but the Doctor was already stumbling away, hands going protectively to her ears. Ryan spun around, fury etched into his face, and jabbed a finger at her.

“The relaxi-tabs! She’s wearing one!”

“What?” Graham’s outraged cry echoed Yaz’s gasp of shock. She stared at the Doctor, who caught her eye and immediately shook her head.

“No, Yaz, I swear I—“

“Yes she is! Look, you can see it!” Ryan pointed, and Yaz followed his gaze, only for her heart to sink.

The Doctor’s hair, in the scuffle, had been pushed behind her ear. Though at Yaz’s look she immediately went to cover it, Yaz still caught the corner of the white tab, just behind the top of her ear.

“Doctor,” she whispered, horrified disappointment washing through her. “Why would you—“

“I did not!” the Doctor retorted, her hand clapped to her ear, but at Ryan’s huff of disbelief, she relented. “Okay, so what? It doesn’t even matter! It’s not as if it’s addictive to my kind! And I have a right—“

“To what?” Ryan shot back, his jaw working with fury. “To put yourself out of your mind? Is that your idea of a vacation? Can’t bear to hang around us so you just—“

“Son—“

“No, he’s right, Graham,” Yaz said quietly. Graham looked at her, surprised, but she kept her eyes upon the Doctor, who gaped at her, mouth open. As if she couldn’t believe Yaz would say that.

“He’s right?” the Doctor said. “Wha—no he isn’t! Yaz, you don’t understand—“

“That you drugged yourself?” Yaz asked. The Doctor stared at her, mouth open.

“No, Yaz—“

But Yaz only shook her head, a weak, dizzy anger roiling through her. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because Ryan’s words rung too true. That the Doctor couldn’t stand them, so she had to send herself out of her own head. Or maybe because Yaz had been hoping, really hoping, that dinner had turned things around. That the Doctor had decided to make amends, and for once, Yaz wouldn’t have to mediate.

“Did you have that on at dinner?” she asked. For a long moment, the Doctor didn’t answer. Then, slowly, she nodded.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Graham muttered. Beside Yaz, Ryan let out a scoff.

“Knew that apology was fake. I can’t believe it.” He shook his head. “I honestly can’t believe it.”

The Doctor winced with his words, cowering lower and lower against the wall. She looked between them like a trapped animal, her eyes darting for some path to escape, some reprieve. They landed, after several desperate seconds, upon Yaz.

“Yaz, listen—!” she cried. “It’s not like that at all! I only wanted—”

“A shortcut to not being a jerk.” Beside her, Ryan swallowed a snort. “Yeah. Okay. Have you ever tried just not being a jerk?”

Fire flashed in the Doctor’s eyes. She pushed off from the wall, and took an unsteady step forward. Her finger jabbed at him. 

“I am not a jerk, Ryan Sinclair,” she growled. “And you have no _right_ to tell me how to act, or what I get to do, or how I—”

“Actually, he does a little bit,” Yaz cut in. The Doctor’s eyes flew to her. “He does, Doctor, because you’re part of this.” With both hands, she gestured to the four of them. “Or have you forgotten? That we’re a fam, not tourists and a tour guide?”

The Doctor stared at her, mouth half open as if she wanted to respond, but wasn’t sure how. Then she shut it tightly, a muscle jumping in her jaw. 

“Stupid nickname anyway,” she said. “You lot never liked it.”

An uproar of indignant cries came from both Ryan and Yaz, and before Yaz could think, she was stepping forward, an angry word or two—or three—on her tongue. Ryan started forward as well, but Graham beat them both.

“Oh, for heaven’s—!” Graham shouldered past Yaz and Ryan, planting himself in front of the Doctor, hand out. “That’s it. Doc, give it here.”

The Doctor stared at him. “What?”

“The tab,” Graham said. He nodded towards his palm. “In the hand, now. I ain’t taking no for an answer.” 

For a moment, the Doctor only looked at him. Then she scowled, and crossed her arms, in a movement that sent her wobbling slightly. She was unsteady, Yaz noticed all of a sudden. Rocking slightly on her heels, her gaze unfocused, all her anger held in the tightness of her jaw. Still, she shook her head.

“Why should I?” she asked. “You don’t tell me what to do, Graham O’Brien.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” Graham said. “Only, if you don’t—and only because we’re worried about you—we’re going to march you down to the medbay, and have them peel it off. All three of us, Doc. Think it over.”

The Doctor did indeed think it over. She seemed to be having a very hard time doing so. She shook her head slightly, dropped her gaze, then let out an angry huff and refocused on Graham. 

“Fine,” she spat. “Only because I’m being threatened.”

Graham only nodded. “And I would again, love. Now, c’mon.” He flexed his fingers.

With a deep scowl, the Doctor reached behind her ear, and pulled at the tab. Yaz watched as she tugged at it, then watched as her face fell, all the anger melting into confusion.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

“Oh _what?_ ” Ryan asked, exasperated. It took the Doctor a moment to find his gaze. She blinked, as if she couldn’t quite understand.

“It won’t come off.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m not going to the medbay,” the Doctor said for the tenth time.

“We’re already on the way to the medbay,” Ryan said through gritted teeth, his hand on the small of her back, pushing. Yaz and Graham were by her sides, crowding the width of the hallway, as they dragged her along hand in hand. Reluctantly—the Doctor hadn’t been keen to take their hands at all, and had indeed put up such an enormous fuss that it had taken their combined strength to overpower her. Now they were panting up seemingly endless sets of stairs, dragging along a drugged and petulant Time Lord, who so far had done nothing but complain.

“M’not going,” the Doctor insisted uselessly, and tried once more to jerk her hands away. “Let go of me!”

“No,” Yaz said. “We’re going to the medbay, Doctor. Complaining isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“But I don’t want—” She cut off as she stumbled over her own two feet, nearly dragging Yaz and Graham down with her. They recovered, and hoisted her back onto unsteady legs, her head nodding loosely with the movement. “I don’t—”

“She’s getting worse,” Yaz said worriedly. “Even in the time we’ve dragged her up here.”

“I think so too.” Graham’s voice was grim as his gaze swept over her. “Bloody hell, Doctor, why on earth would you take—”

“Didn’t want—” The Doctor was slurring now, the words turning to mush in her mouth. “You’m—don’t understand—”

“Understand what?” Ryan asked. His hand was still planted solidly into the small of her back, and his eyes were upon her weaving head, crinkled in exasperation. “What, Doctor?”

“Don’t—” The Doctor’s head dropped, and without warning she began to fall forward. Yaz and Graham caught her just in time, and heaved her upright. She began to giggle as they did so, high and uneven. “Don’t get the—”

“C’mon,” Graham said, impatient. He nodded towards the end of the hallway. “We’re almost there, and my back’s aching. Let’s get her on a bed, and then we can figure out whatever it is we don’t understand.”

A sound plan. Yaz agreed with a nod, and together they continued the arduous process of forcing an unwieldy Time Lord down a narrow hallway.

But they didn’t get her into a bed at all. In fact, they could barely get her into the medbay. The moment they squeezed through the doors, they were caught in a bustle of people, only a few of them bearing the white shirts of medical staff. The rest, Yaz realized a moment later, were cruise guests, just like them. They took up every bed and chair, and spilled into the center of the room, pushing aside medical equipment and tables, despite the medics’ desperate attempts to retain order.

“Oh no.” A medic, red-haired and freckled, stopped when he caught sight of them. His eyes found the Doctor, and his face paled. “Are you another one?”

“Another what?” Ryan asked. 

The medic jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Another one of them. Don’t tell me—she’s wearing a tab?”

Yaz followed his thumb to where he was pointing, and her heart sank. Now that she was taking a moment to look, really look, she could make out a hierarchy in the chaos that spanned the rather cramped room. Patients sprawled across beds and in chairs, their heads lolling and their eyes unfocused, giggling or chattering about nonsense. Around them crowded worried friends and family, parents clutching children and friends wrestling their mates back into bed. Across the room dashed harried medics, responding to calls and checking vitals.

From what Yaz could see, all of the guests sitting upon the beds and in the chairs wore relaxi-tabs.

Her eyes moved back to the medic, and unbidden, a frown pulled at her lips. “Unfortunately, yeah,” she said. “Don’t suppose you could help us, could you?”

The medic looked at them for a long moment, then glanced across the room, as if hoping for an excuse to say no. Unfortunately, there was none; every other nearby patient had an attendant at hand.

After a second, he turned back to them and sighed. “Yes, I’m not too busy. Well, we’re all busy, with this madness. But here—”

He led them through the throngs of worried people and to a nearby chair, gently shooing its occupant, a child, back to her parents. “Put her down here, and let me take a look.”

The Doctor didn’t want to be set down. She struggled, pulling at their grips, her feet slipping and sliding as she tried to scrabble away, and it took several minutes to force her into the chair.

“No!” she cried. “I don’t—don’t do medbays! You can’t—can’t—”

“Doctor, we’re just putting you in a chair,” Ryan tried to reassure, even as he gently forced her onto the seat. “Please, don’t try to get up again. Just sit for a second, yeah?”

“But I don’t—I don’t want—” But the moment she hit the seat, she collapsed, all of the fight going out of her. Her chin dropped to her chest, her head lolling, and as Yaz watched, she tried to bring the heel of her palm to her forehead, only to miss it completely. “…oof. I don’t feel so…”

“They’re all like that,” the medic said grimly. He reached behind the Doctor’s ear, ignoring her weak attempt to shoo him away, and pressed something. Above her head, a holographic display appeared, showing what looked to Yaz’s untrained eye to be vital signs. “Here, I’ll show you—oh. Two hearts?”

This was directed at the three of them, who could only look between each other in confusion. At last it was Graham who turned to the medic with a shrug.

“I’m sorry, mate. Wish I could help you more, but she keeps a lot to herself.”

“Right.” The medic eyed them for a moment, then bent over the Doctor again, who was shaking her head dizzily, as if to clear it. “Well, don’t worry. It’s the brainwaves we’re dealing with. Well, not that the vitals haven’t clued us in, but—well, let me just show you.”

He brushed a finger across the display, and it transformed. Now, waves rolled through, measured on a graph etched in an alien language. “Okay, there’s her brain activity. Low, right?”

“Er,” Graham said. “Sure?”

The medic sighed. “Here. One second.”

With another brush, he pulled up a second chart, then a third, and pointed. “Okay. This chart shows normal brain activity—well actually, it shows a brain under high stress. See the difference?”

Yaz nodded, as did Ryan and Graham. Upon the graph, the waves were erratic and spiky. At their affirmation, the medic nodded.

“That was what her brain looked like a few hours ago, before she put the tab on. Actually—” He frowned, and leaned in closer. “Hers is abnormally high. She hasn’t been under any significant emotional trauma recently, has she?”

Graham, Yaz, and Ryan looked at each other, then shrugged. At this, the medic sighed and moved on. 

“Okay. Unusual, but not the pressing problem right now.” His finger moved to the second graph. “This is her brain under the relaxi-tab, if it were functioning normally. Relaxed, content. Peaceful, even.”

The waves on the second graph rolled even and graceful across the display. The medic waited for their nods, one by one, then moved back to the original graph.

“And _here_ —” He tapped the display, enlarging it— “Look. Her brain activity is incredibly low. I’d call it relaxed, but it’s way past that. She’s barely functioning.”

The waves upon the chart were low, barely blips on the display. Yaz stared at them, then glanced to the Doctor. Her lips moved in a mumble, but Yaz couldn’t understand what she was saying. Her chin was nodding, her eyes half-closed. As she watched, her head fell to the side, her body slumping lower in the chair. 

“Why, though?” Ryan asked. “Why would that happen? Aren’t they supposed to be safe?”

“They _should_ be,” the medic said, frowning. “Least, I’ve been on other cruises, and they always are. Honestly, I’ve never seen this problem before. It’s one of a kind.”

Graham shifted impatiently. “Yeah, okay, but what _is_ the problem? Or do your people not know?”

The medic scowled at him. “We _know_ the problem,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we know how to solve it. We just know what’s causing it. Sort of.”

“Well, what’s causing it?” Yaz prompted. “We could help. Maybe. Or at least, well—we want to know what’s going on.”

The medic sighed. “I know, I know. Trust me, you’re not the first guests I’ve explained this to. We’re doing the best we can.”

“We believe you,” Graham said kindly. “But we’d like to know what’s happening to our friend.”

He gestured to the Doctor, who was now utterly sprawled in her chair, barely conscious. As Yaz watched, she attempted to lift her head, but didn’t quite manage it—it dropped down again, her chin settling against her chest.

“Your friend,” the medic repeated. He swallowed. “Right. Well, see—” With one hand, he flicked through the display, landing on something utterly different. Some kind of graph, though Yaz couldn’t tell what it was supposed to depict. 

“This graph tracks the effects of the relaxi-tab,” the medic said. “You see here, it climbs then drops? That’s because the relaxi-tab—unless you get the deluxe version, which lasts longer—only works for a few hours. Then your body adapts, and it wears off. Problem is, it doesn’t. See?”

He tapped the graph, which indeed showed a climb, then a drop, then another longer climb. “It works, then it wears off for a second, then something happens. Instead of the body adapting, something inside these particular tabs works past the body’s adaption. It adapts to the body’s attempt to fight off the effects instead, and becomes stronger. Basically, instead of the body fighting it off—”

“It fights off the body’s defenses,” Yaz whispered. “It’s like—”

“It’s smart,” the medic completed grimly. “Instead of just wearing off, it learns how to cling on, and keep on going, relaxing the brain until the user ends up—well, like that.”

He gestured to the Doctor, who was now nearly gone from the world. She was listing forward, shoulders hunched, weaving loosely. She didn’t appear to hear the medic at all.

“Oh my god,” Graham whispered, horrified. “Who would have done that? And why?”

“It’s got to be the robots,” Ryan said. He was watching the Doctor, something tight in his eyes. Worry, maybe. “It’s got to be them, doesn’t it? They’re the ones who’ve been—”

The medic shrugged. “The robots are automatons. I mean, you might be right, but I doubt it. Besides, they’re all new. They were replaced just before the cruise, straight from the factory. Nobody would have had time to tamper with them.”

“Straight from the factory?” Yaz’s head jolted up. “Why?”

The medic simply shrugged again. “How am I to know? All I know is, the captain insisted on doing a full replacement. Nobody knows why. Especially since the last ones weren’t so annoying. These ones offer the relaxi-tabs every other second, and it’s bloody—”

“Suspicious,” Yaz breathed. “Graham—Ryan! That must be it!”

Graham looked to her. “You mean the captain? You think he did something?”

“He must have,” Ryan said. “You saw how quickly he was pushing us out of there! It’s got to be him, I’d bet my life on it.”

“Let’s not bet our life on anything,” Graham grumbled. “Especially after what happened at Tranqui—”

“AUGH!” 

The three of them whipped around at the Doctor’s howl, just in time to watch her straighten like a rod, her hand clapping to her ear. Her face was screwed up in anguish, and as one they rushed forward, shouting.

“Doctor—!”

Just then, the lights went out. Again.

The stopped, the three of them, bumping into each other in their dizzy haste to regain balance at the sudden loss of vision. Yaz stumbled, felt Ryan’s hand by her arm, and grasped it. Beside her, Graham put a hand on her shoulder to steady, and behind them, they heard a curse as the medic stumbled into a bed.

Before them, the Doctor let out a low moan.

“Doctor—” Yaz reached forward, groping into blackness, only to stumble in surprise as it abruptly let up. The lights flickered on, harsh and fluorescent, and she looked up, blinking in dazed confusion.

Behind her, Ryan gulped. “Yaz—” 

“Huh?” Yaz twisted to look at him, only to see that he wasn’t looking at her at all. He and Graham were staring in horror across the room, where, she realized after a moment’s perplexity, everybody stood frozen.

No, not frozen. Confused, all of them, those that stood, the friends and family members, staring at—

The people on the beds, and in the chairs. The patients, victims of the relaxi-tab epidemic, all of whom were siting ramrod straight, their faces smooth and their eyes blank. 

As Yaz watched, horrified, they began to move.

“Oh my god—” came Graham’s gasp behind her. She turned to him a question on her lips, then whipped around as sudden realization hit her.

“Graham, Ryan, the Doctor—!”

She spun to face her, then stopped, and stared. Sudden fear pounded through her heart, slow and thick and sludgy. All of a sudden, she felt as if she couldn’t move.

The Doctor was watching her, her back ramrod straight, her hands placed upon her lap, her gaze flat. No, not flat. Not even cold. Because, Yaz realized a terrible moment later, the Doctor’s gaze was utterly blank, everything vanished. No emotion, no heart.

Only something else, peeking out of eyes Yaz suddenly didn’t recognize at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, at the start of the story: yeah, there's possession  
> me, finally, 6 chapters later: here it is! :)
> 
> thank you all for your kind words. I've actually been so busy I nearly forgot to upload. hope you enjoy!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you all for the wonderful comments on this story! I'm sorry I'm not able to respond to each one, but I really appreciate them all! Now you guys will get some answers as to what exactly is going on, and why the Doctor is...like that.

Yaz stood frozen, staring at the Doctor. The Doctor didn’t move. She only watched her, without really seeing at all. As if she wasn’t really there.

It was eerie.

“Doctor—?” Her voice came a strangled breath, high pitched and frightened. “Are you—”

“Yaz.” A hand gripped her shoulder, and a voice whispered in her ear, urgent. Ryan. “We have to get out of here.”

Yaz glanced to him, a question on her lips. Then, a flicker of movement caught her eye, and she looked past him, to watch a man rise from a bed, his gaze blank and his hands out, groping. 

Groping for his family, who began to back away in fear.

“Lou—”

“Help!” A cry came up, and Yaz spun around, caught the tail end scream of a woman as she yanked her hand from another patient’s grasp, his eyes utterly empty. All around them, Yaz realized, the patients were coming to life, grasping for the healthy guests, mouths open and gazes void of anything at all. The guests backed away, frozen into shock and confusion.

“Earl—”

“Jayna, what are you—”

All the patients, Yaz realized, except for the Doctor. When she glanced back, the Doctor was still seated, her eyes blank and her body utterly still. She only stared into nothing, silent.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Graham whispered. Behind them, the medic had rushed off to wrestle a patient into bed, which didn’t appear to be working. As Yaz turned around, she caught a glimpse of the patient pushing him backwards, into a table of medical equipment. He let out a yelp of pain as he crashed hard against the table.

“Somebody, help—!” Another medic rushed to join him, only to cry out as a patient grabbed him by the shirt hem and dragged him back, throwing him against a bed. Then the patient stood, and turned to her friends, who cowered in fear. The room was still frozen, paralyzed into stunned, fearful silence.

Then the patient reached forward, and grabbed her friend by the collar. He let out a yell, and just like that, the silence broke. People began to run, scrambling for the exits with cries and screams, as the patients moved for them, their hands like claws and their eyes dead.

“Okay, I’m with you, Graham.” Ryan spun around and, before Yaz could react, grabbed the Doctor’s hand.

“Ryan, wait—!” 

But the Doctor didn’t react. She didn’t stand either, but she let herself be pulled into a standing position, balancing steady on her own two feet. Yaz stared, momentarily stunned.

“She’s not reacting like the others,” she whispered. “Why isn’t she reacting?”

“Dunno,” Graham said, but he reached forward to grab her other hand. “But let’s talk about it later, yeah?”

“Agreed!” Ryan ducked just then, as a nearby patient made a grab for him, and yanked the Doctor forward. She stumbled, but came readily, letting herself be dragged by Ryan and Graham as the three bolted for the door, still mercifully free of those zombie-like patients.

They burst into the hall, panting, and paused only for a moment.

“Where do we go now?” Ryan asked, then jumped as the door flung open behind them. A patient toppled into the hallway, lunging for them, his face screwed up in a scowl.

“Control room!” Yaz reached out and dragged Ryan out of the way, just as the patient swiped at him. “C’mon—we have to talk to the captain!”

“Sounds good to me!” With a jerk of the Doctor’s hand, Ryan pulled her into a run, and together the four of them fell into a breathless sprint, down the hallway and another set of stairs.

And another. And another. They got turned around twice, went down the wrong stairs once, and by the time they reached the control room, they were heaving for breath, sweating through their shirts. 

All except the Doctor. She only stopped when they stopped, her gaze blank and her mouth slightly ajar, as if seeing something beyond. Or perhaps, Yaz thought, not seeing anything at all.

“We need the sonic screwdriver,” she gasped as they pulled up to the door. “He’s bound to have locked it.”

“Which pocket would it be in?” Ryan was already diving for the Doctor, rummaging through her pockets. 

“Saw her put it in the left!” Graham called. Ryan nodded and dove for it, as the Doctor stood, oblivious. 

“Graham.” Yaz leaned over, her eyes still fixed on the Doctor. “Why don’t you think the Doctor is acting like the others?”

Graham only shook his head. “No idea. We can be thankful for that, though. Blimey, if we’d have had a rogue Doc to deal with, I doubt—”

“Found it!” Ryan drew the screwdriver out and held it aloft. “Her pockets are huge, by the way. Found half a dozen custard creams with it.”

“Atta boy, Ryan!’ Graham called, as Yaz just wrinkled her nose. “You know how to use that thing?”

Ryan’s face fell. “I mean, it can’t be that hard, right? Just point, and—oh!”

He’d been fiddling as he spoke, thumbing over the buttons, and at the touch of his thumb, the end lit up. Fortunately, it was pointed at the door, which, as Graham and Yaz leapt out of the sonic’s line of fire, clicked open.

Ryan stared. “No way it’s that easy.”

Graham snorted. “I’d bet you anything she just keeps it to herself so we think it looks hard. Now, c’mon!”

He started forward, leaving Yaz and Ryan to grab the Doctor’s hands and drag her with them. Graham pushed the door open, and together they tumbled through.

“No, it shouldn’t be—hey!” The captain spun around at the sound of the door, his eyes widening. “You again!”

“Yeah, us!” Graham said in a rough tone. “You’ve got some explaining to do, mate!”

The captain’s eyes flitted between them, landing last upon the Doctor. The moment he saw her, his eyes turned round and he backed up hastily, his hands out in front of him.

“You—you brought one of them with you!”

“One of them?” Yaz asked. She started forward. “Hang on—you know about them?”

“I—” The captain swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I—uh—I don’t have to tell you anything!”

“Like hell you don’t.” Ryan stepped forward, his hand trailing from the Doctor’s and aimed the sonic right at the captain. “More like you will, or—” He nodded to the sonic— “You’ll get a laser blast straight to the face.”

“A what?” The captain’s face crinkled in confusion. Yaz felt the same way. Still, she stepped forward as well, putting herself beside Ryan.

“Yeah, a laser blast,” she said. “You don’t think cruise investigators don’t come prepared?”

“Cruise investigators—” The captain gulped, his eyes darting between them. Then his shoulders sagged. “I—there’s nothing wrong here, I swear! Or—well, I’m trying to fix it! None of this should be happening.”

“None of _what_ should be happening?” Graham said. When the captain didn’t immediately answer, he shook his head. “Son, I think it’s time you realize that we can either help you, or arrest you. And all that depends on how much you tell us.”

For a moment, it didn’t look like the captain was going to agree. His eyes flew to the door, though it was fully blocked by the four of them, and his hands twitched, though there was nothing to grab. Something beeped urgently behind him, and he glanced to it, then back to them.

Then, at last, he sagged completely, all the fight going out of him. With a defeated sigh, he reached up to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead, then lifted his head to meet their gazes.

“Listen—” He swallowed once, then gathered another breath. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I swear. It was supposed to be a simple deal. A load of cash, for a simple job. A harmless one!” he added hastily. “One that shouldn’t have hurt anybody.”

“What was the deal?” Yaz asked. The captain looked to her, then looked to the Doctor, as if sizing her up.

“Simple,” he repeated. “Harmless.” Then he dropped his gaze and shook his head.

“This place,” he said, gesturing vaguely behind him, “this area—it’s a place ships don’t go to. Because of silly superstitions, mainly. See, there’s a lot of telepathic energy here, but it’s all low-level. It was proved harmless centuries ago, by every scientist.” He wrinkled his nose. “Still, it’s mostly avoided.”

“So you plunged right into it,” Graham said. The captain shrugged.

“Plenty of ships do!” he said. “The passengers don’t notice, and the crew are mostly robots. They don’t care. Besides—” He heaved a shaky breath, and wiped another bead of sweat from his forehead— “That was just part of the job. A quick part. Switch out the robots, switch out the relaxi-tabs, bring in a machine, and steer us into this area of the Wesvelian sea for a few days. Not much! Just enough for them to take over.”

“Take over—” Yaz began, but it was Ryan who beat her.

“What machine?” he said. His sonic was still aimed at the captain, who eyed it warily. “Was it the one in the engine room?”

The captain turned to him, outraged. “How did you—”

The sonic jabbed another inch closer, cutting the captain off. He stopped, eyes upon it, then gulped.

“Okay, okay.” His hands came up in protestant surrender. “Yes, there’s a machine in the engine room. It’s a telepathic strengthener, and no, I don’t know why they want it. They just wanted me to bring it here, and keep it running, until they hook into the people.”

“The people with the relaxi-tabs,” Graham said. “The ones who use them.”

The captain turned to him, then shrugged. “Their choice, isn’t it? They put them on, and it weakens their mental state. Any telepathic defenses they may have. Then—”

“They take over,” Yaz finished grimly. “You let them take over those innocent people? For a load of cash?”

The captain scoffed. “Oh, like you care! They’re a load of jerks, the richies and the businessmen who think they run the world, or the government people who aren’t that good at it anyway. Trust me, nobody would miss them! There’s a thousand jerks out there who can take their place. Besides—” He shrugged. “It’s their choice. Nobody ever told them to take the tabs.”

“Yeah, only you kept forcing it into their faces.” Ryan stepped forward, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. “You and your stupid robots, and whoever the hell you work for. Who do you work for, anyway? And how do we fix her?”

He gestured behind him to the Doctor, who still appeared utterly blank. The captain eyed her, nose wrinkled in distaste.

“No idea,” he said. “Listen, if your friend isn’t going psycho like the others, she’s probably just fighting the takeover. Which I told you, _shouldn’t be happening._ ”

“Yeah, well it is,” Yaz scowled. “You and your get-rich-quick plan is looking more and more like a load of rubbish. Now, tell us who you work for, so we can fix the mess you’ve made!”

“I told you!” The captain spun to her, angry. “I’ve no idea! They offered me cash, enough for a lifetime—I wasn’t about to say no! All I know is they’re probably telepathic, and they’re not supposed to be doing this, because we _made a_ —”

“The deal is not sufficient.”

Everybody froze. The captain looked past their shoulders, and his eyes widened.

“Oh no,” he whispered. Then he moaned, low and terrified. “I told you not to bring—”

Slowly, Yaz turned, as did Ryan, the sonic falling to his side. They stared at the Doctor, who glanced between them with a gaze empty as a desert plain, then stepped past them, her focus upon the captain.

“The deal is not sufficient,” she repeated. The captain didn’t reply, only cowered before her, his back pressing against the dashboard.

“Hey!” Graham called. When the Doctor didn’t immediately reply, he called again. “Hey, Doc! What the hell are you doing?”

Slowly, the Doctor turned, pinning him with a blank gaze. “My name is not Doc.”

“Yeah, well who are you then?” Yaz said, forcing herself to straighten. Most of her bravery had seeped away in utter surprise—now, as the Doctor turned to her, she tried desperately to recover it. 

“The ones who remain,” the Doctor said, and in her voice, Yaz caught the briefest hint of layers, a million voices speaking at once. Then it was gone, and the Doctor only watched her with a vacant gaze.

“The ones who remain?” Ryan asked. “Remain from what?”

The Doctor’s gaze moved to him. “The ones who remain,” she repeated. “Those who survived. We exist now only as energy. Our telepathic bonds survived what our bodies couldn’t.”

_Telepathic bonds_. Yaz stared, realization sinking through her. Telepathic creatures! She recalled the painting the Doctor had been examining. All the low-level telepathic energy buzzing about the sea—but the scientists had called it benign. Harmless. Unless—

“The telepathic strengthener,” she whispered. “You’re using the machine to get the power to take over!”

The Doctor didn’t overly react to her revelation. She only cocked her head, and studied Yaz for a long moment.

“You wish to protect your friend,” she said. Even her voice was dead, void of inflection. “It is useless. She will work for us. She will fix what we need.”

“She bloody well won’t!” Graham retorted. “And you won’t be getting the bodies you need, either! Not if we have anything to say about it.”

The Doctor turned to him. This time, a slight wrinkle appeared upon her forehead as she examined him, as if parsing through a difficult puzzle.

“Then you will perish,” she said at last. “You and your friends.”

“Perish—” Graham took a step back, and just in time, for without warning the Doctor lunged, crossing the tiny space in an instant. Her hands grabbed for the collar of Graham’s shirt and yanked him right off his feet, ignoring his yells.

“Grandad!” Ryan rushed forward, as did Yaz, but before they could reach the Doctor, she let out a cry.

“Augh!”

Graham dropped bodily to the floor as both hands came up to her forehead, her face caught in a rictus of pain. She stumbled backwards, crashing painfully against a wall of dials, then dropped like a stone.

Then, the lights went out.

“Oh, not again—!” the captain groaned, and Yaz heard him turn, heard his hands on the controls, doing—what, she couldn’t say.

“What is it?” she called, but before he could answer, the power flicked on again, bathing them all in light. The moment it did, the Doctor stirred.

“Doctor—!” Yaz dove for her, only to draw back as the Doctor clambered to her feet, her eyes blank and face harsh. Without thinking, Yaz took another step back, crashing against the wall, heart pounding as she waited for the Doctor to lunge for her.

But the Doctor didn’t. She only strode forward, and pushed through the door, leaving them all to watch her go.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, I'm so sorry it's been a while! In full honesty, I've been a little down about my writing abilities, and it's kept me from posting. Which is unfair to you guys, because I have the chapters just sitting around. So I'm just gonna yeet this chapter and the next two out to finish the story, and again, I'm really sorry about the delay!

All four of them stared at the door as it swung shut in the Doctor’s wake. It was Graham who broke the silence.

“Lovely,” he said. “Now what are we supposed to do?”

“Find her,” Yaz said immediately. She spun around, trying to tamp down the panic rising in her belly. A drugged, possessed Doctor was one thing. A drugged, possessed, by all accounts utterly helpless Doctor who had just run off was another. “We have to go after her before she gets too far!”

“You’re right,” Ryan agreed, and reached for the door handle, only to hesitate. “Hang on. What if she’s going to the others?”

Yaz stared at him. “So?”

“Well, we don’t want to walk right into them, do we?” he said. “We’ve got to have a plan!” 

“Ryan’s right,” Graham said, though the worried crease in his brow gave him away. “Before we go running off, we have to figure out how we’re gonna go about this.”

“Okay, but—” Yaz rocked back on her heels, swallowing the impatience rising within her. _The Doctor was in danger_ , her instincts screamed at her. They had to help her, but Graham and Ryan were right—how could they help her if they didn’t even know what they were facing?

“You!” She spun around, and jabbed a finger at the captain. “You said about ten times that this wasn’t supposed to happen. What were you talking about?”

“Me?” The captain, still backed up against the controls, gaped at her. “Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because we’ve got a weapon, mate.” Ryan drew the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at him. “And we really aren’t afraid to use it.”

The Doctor, Yaz thought, would have a fit should she learned how they’d been using the sonic. Then it occurred to her that she might not be around at all pretty soon, and her stomach twisted.

The captain’s eyes darted to the sonic, then to Ryan. Then he huffed.

“Fine,” he growled. With one hand, he gestured to the controls. “It’s just what I said. This shouldn’t be happening. The agreement was that they would take over their hosts’ bodies silently, and subtly enough that nobody would notice. Like planting an imprint of the back of their minds, you know? It would only activate after we reached shore, and I dumped everybody back off. I was _not_ supposed to be involved in this.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you’re already involved,” Graham said. The captain only shot him a glare before continuing. 

“Like I said, they weren’t supposed to take over people like this. It’s too…rushed, and dirty. Even I can tell that! Nobody should have been activated until they were off the ship. Only now—”

Just then, another black out plunged over them, brief enough that they didn’t have time to react. A second of flickering darkness, then the lights turned on again, the dashboard wheezing once more to life.

“ _That_ keeps happening,” the captain groaned. “It’s the telepathic strengthener—it’s drawing too much power from the ship, because they keep taking people over! And the more the black outs happen, the more power they pour into the machine—” A warning light suddenly blared behind him, and he winced— “And the worse it gets! I tried to warn them—”

“But why would they do that?” Ryan asked. “If they were already putting too much strain on the machine, why not back off?”

“Because they’re scared,” Yaz realized. She looked up, caught Graham and Ryan’s curious glances, and sucked in a breath. “They’re scared! They must have taken over too many people with the relaxi-tabs—”

“There were loads of people wearing them,” Graham pointed out.

Yaz nodded. “Which caused the black outs, because the machine couldn’t handle it! Except instead of drawing back, they must have gotten scared and activated everybody at once!”

The captain was staring at her, horror upon his face. “My deal is ruined,” he breathed. “They’ll never let me—”

“Oh, sod your deal!” Graham turned on him. “Good god, man, this isn’t about you! These people are in danger!”

“Everybody wearing the tabs.” Distantly, Yaz reeled. In her mind’s eye, she saw the man from earlier, and his worried family. Then she saw the Doctor, slumped in a chair, utterly out of it. “Oh my god—”

“We have to stop them,” Ryan said firmly. “And we have to find the Doctor.”

“I second that plan,” Graham said. A deep crease ran through his brow. “I don’t like the idea of her under the influence of those things. Faster we can get it off of her, the better off we’ll be ending this thing.”

“You can’t end it.” The captain was shaking his head. “It’s—you don’t know how powerful they are! They—”

“Yeah, but neither do you,” Ryan said with a dismissive flip of his hand. He was already turning to the door. “You already said you don’t know anything. Maybe just stay here, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll need you to steer the ship,” Graham said. “I mean, I ain’t about to be stranded. C’mon, Ryan, Yaz.”

They turned to the door, the three of them, Graham stepping decisively in front, as if to lead the way. As if, in lieu of the Doctor to protect them, he had decided to play substitute. Yaz couldn’t help the fond smile that came to her lips, which quickly vanished when she recalled just what they were stepping out into.

But the hallway was empty, utterly so. They crept out, leaving the captain behind, and turned to the stairwell to the right, which led up.

“Where do you think we should go?” Ryan whispered. Somehow, in the dead silence of the hallway, even the walls seemed to be listening. 

Yaz shook her head. “She could be anywhere.”

“Most of them were at the medbay,” Graham pointed out. “What if they’re still there?”

Ryan gave him a sharp look. “You really want to go back into that?”

“If the Doc is there?” Graham didn’t look entirely happy, but he nodded. “I mean, we ain’t got a choice, son.”

Ryan looked at him for a moment, then sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Yaz?”

“I’m with Graham,” Yaz said immediately. “We have to find her.”

Ryan nodded, jaw tight. From nerves maybe, or fear. Yaz couldn’t tell. “Okay. Yeah. I agree. Let’s go.”

They started off, creeping like children in reverse hide and seek. Yaz couldn’t help but flash back to their last disastrous vacation on Orphan 55, and had to smother the urge to laugh. Somehow, they were always stuck being chased, whether it be from mutated humans of the future or zombiefied cruise passengers. Never a dull day with the Doctor.

Or without. Yaz’s laugh died in her throat, and a frown took its place. The Doctor had to be out there somewhere on the ship, but what if they couldn’t find her? The idea that it might be too late was a terrible one, especially with so much that lay between them. They had plenty to discuss, both good and bad, but should they lose her to a silly drug, of all things, they would never get the chance. 

Never get the chance to find out why she’d put it on in the first place. That was what bothered Yaz, and that was what hounded her as they crept quietly up stairs and through hallways. Why would she do that, right after she had warned them off of it? She had been so disdainful of it too, in a way that Yaz couldn’t doubt the sincerity of. As if she looked down upon the use of them, even.

So why would she take one? What, Yaz thought, could she possibly need to relax so badly from?

“This is the hallway.” Ryan’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts. She followed his gaze as he pointed. “And that’s the medbay door. Now what?”

He looked to Graham and Yaz, who shrugged.

“Sneak up on it?” she suggested, with a hope that fell at his dubious look. “I mean, what else can we do? We have to check whether she’s in there.”

“Yaz is right,” Graham put in, though he looked distinctly unhappy about it. “One of us has to go.”

“Not all three?” Ryan asked.

Yaz shook her head. “Graham is right. One would be better. And I’ll do it,” she added hastily, before Ryan could open his mouth. “I don’t mind. And I want to see that she’s in there.”

They all did, she knew. But there was something nagging at Yaz, something she couldn’t entirely explain. Something about the man—Earl—from earlier, and the Doctor. Something his wife had said, that she was only just missing.

“You know what I don’t get?” she said, before Graham or Ryan could object to her idea. “Why wait until they get off the ship?”

Ryan stared at her, baffled. “Why wait to do anything?” He shrugged. “They’re alien, or something. They probably have reasons we don’t understand.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Graham said. He had a pensive frown upon his face now, as he gazed at Yaz. “I think you have a point, Yaz. If they specifically wanted to wait, they must have had a reason.”

“Yeah, but is that really important now?” Ryan asked. “We still have to find the Doctor. Hell, if we get that thing off of her, we can ask her.”

Yaz nodded. “Okay, right. You’re right. I can go.” She glanced over his shoulder, down the length of the hallway. It was empty, but from the medbay, she could hear the shifting and rustling of people moving about. She swallowed a lump of trepidation, then moved her gaze back to Graham and Ryan. “You okay with that?”

By their looks, they weren’t. Still, they didn’t argue. They only nodded, one by one, and as Yaz stepped past them, Graham gave her a worried look.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Yaz,” he said softly. “By that measure, don’t be the Doctor.”

Yaz could only smile weakly. “I’ll keep it in mind, Graham.”

The trip down the hallway was short, yet seemed to take an eternity. Yaz could only pray, as she carefully moved down the length of it, that nobody would leave the medbay. She could hear people shifting inside, even the occasional raise of a voice.

The door was closed, but there was a small window set into it, just above her line of sight. She had to raise up on her tiptoes to look through, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent light within.

And then she saw.

The medbay was full. Clearly, the possessed had chosen to use the space as their base, for the beds and chairs were pushed to the side, and people, all with tabs behind their ears, moved about, deep in discussion. Yaz craned her neck, and caught the bright red hair of the medic from earlier, slumped against a wall. She couldn’t tell if he was dead, or unconscious.

Her stomach flipped.

Even worse, one long look was enough to confirm what she’d feared; the Doctor wasn’t there. Plenty of possessed occupied the space—she even caught the balding head of Earl, though his wife and daughter were missing—but the Doctor, with her signature coat and yellow suspenders, was nowhere to be found.

But then, Yaz wondered, where could she possibly be?

“Yaz!”

Yaz glanced to the right, to the stairwell, and caught Ryan and Graham’s frightened faces. The moment she did, they began to jab hurried fingers at the opposite end of the hall, where another stairwell stood. It took her a moment to understand.

It took her another moment to hear the footsteps.

“Quick!” Ryan mouthed, but Yaz was already on her way. She took off, moving as quickly and silently as she could, even as the footsteps clattered behind her, growing louder with every passing second. For a second, she thought she wouldn’t make it.

Then she was there, sliding into the stairwell just as a man appeared at the other end of the hallway. Blank face, empty eyes—clearly possessed. He didn’t even glance in their direction, but made a beeline straight for the medbay, disappearing inside.

Yaz took a heavy breath, and let it out in a sigh. “Oh my days—”

“Thought you weren’t going to make it.” Ryan gave her a crooked grin. “So, how was it? Did you see her?”

Yaz shook her head, and watched their faces fall. “I’m sorry. But there were loads of them. All guests, and—” She hesitated. “Actually, there was something else I noticed.”

“Something else?” Graham stepped forward eagerly. “Well?”

“Uh—not noticed, exactly,” Yaz hedged. “Okay, it’s more of a hunch. Sort of. Thing is, I saw Earl there.”

Both Ryan and Graham stared at her.

“Earl?” Ryan asked.

“The rude guy the Doctor argued with,” Yaz said. “He got his upgrade, apparently. But the thing is, I was talking to his wife earlier, and she mentioned how important he was. A CEO.”

“Yeah, so?” Ryan asked. “Gotta be rich to afford a cruise.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing,” Yaz said. “Sofia—his wife—told me that this wasn’t just a cruise for rich people. It was for the VIPs. You know, the CEOs, and the presidents of things, and government people—”

“Oh.” It was Graham who understood first, rocking back on his heels. “Oh. You mean—”

“The people who run the world,” Yaz confirmed. “Guys, what if that has to do with something? What if all the people wearing those tabs—”

“Are the ones with the most stress.” Even Ryan was catching on, running a hand over his head. “Oh! So they wear the tabs, all the important people—”

“And they were _supposed_ to take over them back onshore.” Graham had gone pale. “Bloody hell. That means—”

“They’re not just taking people over,” Yaz finished grimly. “They’re trying to take this whole _world_ over.”

“Oh my god.” Ryan shook his head, stunned. “That’s—we’ve got to stop them, don’t we?”

“Yeah, but how?” Yaz asked, frustrated. “I mean, without the Doctor, what are we supposed to do?”

“Well, we should find her, first of all,” Graham pointed out. “And besides, not to be a downer for those so-called telepathic thingies, but their plan isn’t going too well. Can’t even fix their machine.”

“Yeah, I mean—” Ryan began, only to stop. “Oh, wait. Graham. I think they can.”

“What?” Graham looked at him sharply. “How?”

“Remember what the Doctor said?” Ryan looked between them, then, at their twin looks of confusion, huffed. “You know! When she was possessed. Don’t you remember, she said—”

“She will fix what we need,” Yaz echoed, sudden horror washing through her. “Oh my god, Ryan, you’re right! If anybody can fix that thing—”

“It’ll be the Doctor,” Graham agreed. “Which means right now, she has to be—oh!”

He cut off in a yelp of surprise as the entire hallway, stairwell and all, plunged into darkness. This time, it lingered for several incredibly long seconds, seemingly turning darker with every moment, before flickering back on again.

Only this time, the lights didn’t entirely return. Instead, red emergency lights flickered on, as well as green exit lights, bathing the entire hallway in ghostly lights. Shadows cloaked the corners, dimmed their faces. 

Yaz looked at the other two, and wondered if her own fear was just as clear on her face as it was on theirs. Probably, she thought, it was.

“I don’t know about you,” she said. “But I’d bet anything that was the Doctor’s attempt at fixing that thing.”

“Yeah?” Graham snorted. “No, you’re right. Okay. What do you say—engine room?”

Ryan nodded, his brow wrinkled in a deep frown. Concerned fear played across his face. “Yeah, engine room. Let’s go.”


	9. Chapter 9

It was faintly amusing, Yaz thought as they plunged down a dark set of stairs, how quickly their vacation had devolved into climbing up and down a series of stairs. That, and a missing Doctor, along with a bad case of possessed guests and malevolent telepathic beings.

If it weren’t for the safety of the Doctor, she might have found it entertaining. 

“You know what I don’t get?” she said as they crept down another stairwell.

“Is this really the time for talking?” Ryan said through gritted teeth. He gestured above them. “Those things are still out there, Yaz.”

Yaz glanced up. “Yeah, but we’ve gotta be safe down here, right? I mean, we haven’t seen a single person. They’re all above.”

“Maybe because of that.” Graham pointed grimly to the ceiling. “Swear that weren’t there a few flights back.”

Yaz followed his gaze, and bit her lip. Graham was right—in the time it had taken them to make their way down to the lower parts of the ship, to the gray hallways and grimy floors, something had changed above their heads. It was hard to put a finger on what it was, exactly.

For instance, it wasn’t visible. If Yaz squinted, she thought she could catch a strange sort of glow, ghostly as it spread across the ceiling, and as nebulous as mist—but that was the thing. So amorphous was the presence, that it was impossible to tell if it was really there at all. It might only have been an illusion of the dim lights, glowing softly along the hallways.

Instead, she felt it as a pressure above her head, as thick as a brewing storm, pushing upon the base of her skull. It ached inside her head like the change of the weather, and in the moments that the three of them fell silent as they crept down the hallways, she thought she could hear voices.

Telepathy, Yaz thought. A maelstrom leaking through the hallways, whipping slowly into something she wasn’t sure she’d be able to comprehend. There was a malevolence to the presence, and a desperation too, edging at her thoughts. Creeping in and settling right at the back of her head, much as she tried to shake it away.

“It’s got to be the telepathics,” she said. “The ones possessing people. You feel it too, right?”

Ryan and Graham nodded, one by one.

“Yeah.” Ryan’s face was grim, his jaw tight. He held it all there, Yaz noticed, the fear of what they were about to do, and the worry that it wouldn’t work out.

Not that she knew what they were about to do. Their plan was weak, and only consisted of one clear step: find the Doctor.

“Okay, but the thing I don’t get,” she repeated as they stepped into a hallway. “Is the Doctor. And why she would put that thing on.”

“What, the relaxi-tab?” Ryan snorted. “Wanted a break, maybe. From us, it’s starting to feel like.”

“Now that can’t be it though,” Graham said. When Ryan caught his gaze, he shrugged. “Listen, we all know she’s been a piece of work lately. But she’s the one in charge of the ship. Why not just drop us off, if she’s so tired of us?”

Ryan opened his mouth to object, then shut it again. “She could just be too polite,” he argued. “My dad was like that, for a bit. Didn’t really want to be there, but he hung around anyway, you know? Until he took off for good.”

Yaz and Graham exchanged a worried look. “Okay, but that’s not the Doctor’s way,” Yaz said, though even she couldn’t be entirely sure of the words. Who was she to say, anyway? What did she really know about the Doctor, besides what she hadn’t told them? “I mean, I don’t think it is. She wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t think we know what she would do,” Graham said. “The relaxi-tabs proved that, didn’t they? That we don’t know her as well as we thought.”

“Yeah, well not for lack of trying!” Yaz snapped, only to quickly reel back her tone. “I—sorry. I’m just—well, it’s frustrating, ain’t it? All this time trying to be her friend, and she only—”

“Pushes us away,” Ryan agreed. “No, I get you, Yaz. It’s not right.”

“It ain’t,” Graham agreed. “Only we don’t have the time to pry, do we? Not until we get that thing off her head.”

“Yeah.” Yaz frowned, and glanced down the hallway. “Hey—aren’t we almost there?”

Ryan squinted into the gloom. “I think? I mean, if I counted the stairs correctly, the engine room should be right at the end of—here!”

He stopped, Yaz and Graham stumbling to a halt behind him, and pointing. “There it is. I mean, I think.”

Yaz and Graham peered past him, squinting. He was right, Yaz thought, or at least so she thought. There was a door near the end of the hallway, one which looked like the door to the engine room, but it was hard to tell around that indefinable presence that seemed to be gathering in the hallway. It crowded the door, or rather, seeped out of it, turning the entire hallway strangely fuzzy.

It ached, Yaz thought. Like a headache, moving from the base of her skull to her temples. The weight of it pressed upon her, gentle but dangerous nonetheless. A storm, barely held at bay.

Below the door, green light spilled into the hallway.

“You’re right, Ryan,” Yaz said. “That’s got to be it.”

“Great,” Graham grunted. “So what do we do? Just waltz on in there?”

Ryan and Yaz looked to each other.

“I don’t have a better plan,” Ryan confessed.

“Me neither,” Yaz admitted. Graham looked between the two of them, then let out a sigh.

“Okay, okay,” he said, running a hand through his short hair. “That’s—well, that would be the Doctor’s plan, I suppose. Which has got to mean something.”

“Might just mean that she’s smarter than us,” Yaz pointed out, only for Ryan to grimace.

“Cheers for the confidence, Yaz,” he said, then stepped forward, leaving them to follow. “C’mon. It’s the Doctor. She won’t hurt us, right? I mean, really?”

Graham tugged nervously at his shirt collar. “That’s easy for you to say,” he grumbled, but he followed along just as well.

That strange pressure grew as they approached, whipping and sparking with a wild, hither-to restrained energy. It was enough to make Yaz lean back unconsciously, her hand going to her forehead.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she muttered. Graham only nodded, as Ryan reached out to turn the handle.

He didn’t hesitate, only shoved the door open carefully, letting it swing wide, then stepped inside. Yaz followed, Graham trailing behind, reluctance writ across his face.

Yaz could feel it in her own chest. A strange, primal fear, not quite physical, but all in her brain. Her heart didn’t race, her hands didn’t turn clammy, but all of a sudden, the moment she stepped through, her mind quailed.

_Get out of here_ , her thoughts whispered, barely-caught panic edging into them. _This is not safe, this is not for us, our minds are not made to see things in such a way—_

“Ryan,” Yaz whispered through gritted teeth. “Do you feel that?”

In front of her, Ryan nodded. “It’s like—” His face screwed up, his jaw clenching— “Like I want to run, but it’s all in my head, like—like—”

“Like this is way above our capacity,” Yaz whispered, trying as hard as she could not to draw back, to turn away. The pressure had worsened, like a migraine about to split; around her, that invisible presence was starting to churn angrily.

“She seems to be doing okay.” Graham came up beside them, and pointed. Yaz followed his gaze and, despite the pressure, despite the ache worsening in her mind, her heart caught in her throat.

There, crouched beside the machine, her coat smeared with oil and grease, was the Doctor. She had a wrench in her hand and a concentrated look upon her face, as if she were deep into her work.

It was the same way she looked, Yaz thought with a pang, when she was doing repairs on the TARDIS. 

“We were right,” Ryan whispered. His eyes too were fixed upon the Doctor, watching her work. “What do we do now?”

Yaz opened her mouth to speak. “Maybe we could—augh!”

All of a sudden, the pressure broke, like a baseball bat slamming across the back of her head. She staggered, out of the corner of her eye saw Graham and Ryan stagger too, and a moment later heard a high, cackling laughter echoing around the room. No—not just a single laugh. A million, desperate and hysterical and mean, laughing at their telepathic weakness and their small minds, unable to comprehend—

“Get out of our heads,” Yaz growled, and tried to shove them away, only she didn’t know how. The laughter only strengthened, and beside her, Ryan groaned, his hands shoved against his forehead.

_Poor, feeble human._ The voices cackled and screamed around them, flickering with fury and hurt-anger-revenge-yes— _We aren’t even in your heads. You’ve entered our domain._

“Yeah, because you’ve taken one of our friends!” Ryan forced out. With a groan, he straightened, and waved his hand. “Doctor! Doctor, it’s us!”

For a moment, it didn’t appear as if the Doctor had heard. Then, slowly as stone, she stood and turned to face them. Her gaze was blank, her face void of expression.

Around them, the voices laughed. _You think she will answer? To you, humans who can’t even grasp the nature of the person who stands before you, who dare to ask questions they don’t want the answer to?_

“Oi, we’re not asking anything!” Graham said. “Doc, we’re just trying to tell you—you don’t have to do this! This isn’t you, this is those things taking over you, you’re not in your right mind!”

Around them, the laughter rose, whipping like wind, sending them stumbling back with the sheer volume. It dove into their ears, settled into their heads like oil upon skin. The presence around them, inescapable, howling at their fear and uncertainty.

_Foolish, pathetic humans. We see that you could never understand. It’s why we will kill you, once we gather the strength._

“Oh, and you think she’ll agree to that, do you?” Yaz stepped forward, her hands over her ears though she knew it wasn’t helping. “Doctor, don’t listen to them! They’re only manipulating—”

_Manipulating._ The word swirled around them, repeated over and over with belligerent amusement. _Manipulating! As if she didn’t agree._

“What?” Beside her, Ryan took a step back. “Why would she—”

The voices cackled, high with amusement. _Of everyone, she understands our plight. Knows what it means to be lost in a sea of nothing, abandoned and alone._

“She’s not alone!” Yaz cried. “And you can sod off with that sympathy talk, because we know what you’re trying to do! Taking over the people on this ship, just so you can get at this planet! You’re invaders, not refugees!”

_Invaders?_ The voices drew back in surprise. Then the laughter started up again, crueler than before. _She doesn’t even know! She understands nothing—_

Before them, the Doctor had clearly lost interest in the conversation. Slowly, she turned back to the machine.

“Doctor, don’t!” Yaz called desperately, only to be met by more ugly laughter.

_Invaders,_ the voices whispered around them, heavy with disgust. _Invaders, she calls us. As if we haven’t lived upon this planet since it’s beginning. Long before the current occupants arrived. We are not invaders, idiot human. We are those who remain._

“Those who remain,” Graham said beside her. His eyes widened. “Yaz, that’s what the Doc said!”

_Yes,_ the voices cackled, delight at their realization swirling through the air. _Those who remain, and those who will claim what is rightfully ours. We will not let our world be claimed by those who don’t even realize what came before. No, we will rise again, and we will **live**._

“You can’t!” Yaz cried, even though in her heart, to her horror, she felt a trickle of understanding. A sympathy, and she knew they felt it too. Still, she tried to bluster it away. “Listen, we’re sorry about your fate, but you can’t just turn around and push these people out! They probably didn’t even realize!”

_And yet they will soon_ , the voices sang, smug with satisfaction and victory. _They will learn, and we will live, and your friend will help us along the way._

“But why?” Ryan cried. “Why would she agree to this? They’ve got to be lying, she would never—“

_Wouldn’t she?_ The voices whirled around them, smug in their victory, as the Doctor bent mindlessly over their contraption, working on something Yaz couldn’t see. _She, who has seen so much destruction? Who knows what it means to see a planet destroyed, our lives reduced to nothing but a patch in the ocean, to be the last—_

“How can she be the last?” Graham cried. “Last of what?”

_The last of her kind._

Yaz froze. In a distant, far off way, she saw the Doctor freeze too, the wrench pausing midturn.

“What?” Graham whispered.

Around them, the voices paused, the maelstrom of energy stilling momentarily. Then they started up again, louder and more raucous than before, brimming with vindictive cruelty.

_Oh yes._ The voices chuckled. _Feeble, limited human brains. Ignorant of her pain, even when she’s been screaming it to anyone that will listen. The pain of a world lost—of a people destroyed—_

And within the voices, Yaz realized suddenly, a new presence was seeping through, warm and familiar and raw to their touch, melding with the voices which cackled around them. Crying out, though she couldn’t decipher the language. Reaching out in pain and grief, begging desperately, _please-please-please-please—_

Before her, the Doctor clambered to her feet.

_No!_ Without warning, the voices rammed their pressure down upon her, and upon Yaz and the others as well. She stumbled, her hand going to her forehead, and before her watched the Doctor pause, her mouth open and her eyes blank. She stood there, unmoving, caught in a telepathic bind.

“Let her go!” Yaz cried, and tried to take a step forward, only to be driven back by the force of their telepathic energy. “You’re hurting her!”

_Are we?_ The voices cackled. _Foolish human—she only hurts herself with her memories. We give her relief._

And without warning, the Doctor’s grief faded, melting into a pool of utter calm, blank and staticky as a TV turned to the wrong channel. Empty, and waiting for command.

Slowly, the Doctor looked to the machine.

“No!” Ryan cried. “Doctor, don’t give in! You’re stronger than this—“

_Idiots!_ the voices cried out. _Foolish, selfish humans! Would you give her to grief? Would you leave her to watch her planet burn again and again? Only we know the pain, only we can understand—_

Their voices turned furious, a driving force of spite and—no, Yaz heard it now. Pain. Anger and pain and grief, so similar to that of the Doctor, and so different, for they turned it outward, pushed it upon others, while the Doctor kept it so close to her chest she was burning herself to ash.

_You could never understand,_ the voices cackled. _Only if we show—_

Anguish seeped through the air, tense and unbreathable, like a rubber band pulled any second to snap, and with it came images, shattering over Yaz like glass, sharp and painful. Flashes of a planet she had never seen and a destruction she could never comprehend, images of a city burning and a planet decimated, screams of a billion people turned to ash, and threaded through it all, hoarse in horror, the Doctor’s anguished cry.

_It burned it burned it burned it burned—_

The laughter surrounded them, filled their ears and heads, cruel and vindictive. 

_We give her relief_ , the voices repeated. _Relief from a pain we only know too well._

Before them, the Doctor fell to her knees, her legs folding like a plastic chair. Her mouth was open, her gaze unseeing—or seeing something else, something, Yaz realized, that she had been seeing for a long time. Silent tears streamed down her face, turning her nose red and her cheeks wet. Choked horror was frozen upon her face, stuck in memories Yaz could barely understand.

Hadn’t understood this whole time. The Doctor’s grief, manifested in a grouchy irritability they had all taken to be no more than a bad mood, which had hidden the loss of something Yaz couldn’t even comprehend.

She had been so good at hiding, Yaz thought with a sharp pang, that they hadn’t even thought to look.

Beside her, Ryan sucked in a choked breath.

“She’s alone,” he said. “The whole time, she wouldn’t tell us anything, and we thought—“

“We thought she was grumpy,” Graham whispered. “We thought she didn’t like us.”

“But why?” Yaz asked desperately. She was staring at the Doctor, who didn’t move. Tears were still streaming down a face frozen in horror, her eyes wide open and unseeing. “Why wouldn’t she tell us?”

“Never mind that,” Ryan said. “How do we help her?”

At that, the voices rose again in smug whispers.

_Help her,_ they repeated, swirling the words again and again through the air. _Help her, help her, they think they can help her—_

With the abruptness of a blanket smothering a flame, the Doctor’s grief blinked out, smoothing over into placid nothingness. In its place, the voices’ satisfaction rose, drawing the Doctor to her feet. She rose clumsily, her mind a blank sea, and turned back to the machine.

_She’s ours now,_ the voices whispered. _There is nothing to be done. She will save us all. She will make things right._

“Like hell she will!” Graham said angrily, but the laughter only rose, spinning around the three of them.

“Like hell she won’t,” Ryan muttered. “Graham, look at her!”

Indeed, the Doctor was now bent deeply over the machine, hard at work. Yaz watched her, her heart sinking.

“She can’t fight it,” she whispered. “Why would she? They’re giving her exactly what she wants.”

Graham gave her a dubious glance. “What, to be controlled?”

“No, to forget!” Yaz said. “Graham, how could anybody want to remember that—that—“

She dropped off, quailing at the memories she had borne witness to. Only the barest flickers, but enough to burrow deep into her mind and stay, floating just behind her eyelids.

It occurred to Yaz that she knew why the Doctor had taken the relaxi-tab. And by the looks on Graham and Ryan’s faces, they were having the same realization.

“Bloody hell,” Graham muttered. His face had gone pale. “Of course. Oh, Doc—“

“We have to stop this,” Yaz insisted, but she couldn’t keep the uncertainty out of her voice. Because how were they supposed to stop it? They had no telepathy, no power, and they were completely outnumbered. Worse, the other side had the Doctor’s mind at their command, and the sooner, Yaz knew, that they fixed their machine, the worse their odds would be.

“We’ve got to stop that machine,” Graham muttered, his voice low as if that might prevent the voices from hearing. “But how?”

Yaz shook her head. “I have no—“

“Oh!” 

Both pairs of eyes flew to Ryan.

“What is it, son?” Graham demanded. Ryan just shook his head, a slow grin creeping over his face. 

“I know how to stop the machine,” he said. “But first, grandad—tell me you still have that relaxi-tab the robot gave you.”

Graham checked his pockets. “I do, yeah! Never got around to throwing it out.”

“Perfect.” Ryan rubbed his hands together. “Okay. Here’s my idea.”

It was, Yaz reflected after Ryan had explained, an ingenious plan. So ingenious that it might not actually work.

“We don’t know if these things will affect that machine,” Graham had pointed out. “How do we know if it’ll work?”

“We don’t,” Ryan had replied, smile dropping at their less than enthusiastic response. “But it’s worth trying, isn’t it?”

It was, Yaz thought, precisely because they had nothing else to try. But still, that didn’t mean it would work.

“Okay, I’m going with it,” she relented, ignoring Graham’s slightly dubious look. “But how do we distract the Doctor and those telepathic beings?”

Ryan nodded, as if he had expected this. “That’s where you and I come in, Yaz.”

Now, they stood clumped at one end of the room, fidgeting nervously as the storm grew in strength around them. The voices had turned their focus to the Doctor, whispering what might have been soothing things, though Yaz couldn’t quite make out what they were. The pressure inside her head had lessened slightly, with their turn of focus.

“Ready, Graham?” Ryan whispered. Graham only nodded, and reached into his pocket. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“And Yaz?” Ryan’s eyes were upon the Doctor, hard at work upon the machine. As Yaz watched, she raised a hand to wipe sweat off her forehead, leaving a trail of grease.

Yaz nodded. “On your word, Ryan.”

“Alright.” Ryan nodded, and stepped forward. “Okay. Start thinking, Yaz.”

Yaz sucked in a breath, and began to think. No—not just thinking. Loud, obvious projection, spelling out the plan they’d worked up. One which involved the three of them making a run for the Doctor, and pulling her away from the machine, in five minutes time. She began to work it over in her head, injecting some false nerves, which wasn’t hard when she had plenty of real nerves to draw from.

Around her, the voices began to whip into a fury.

_She thinks she can beat us, she thinks she can succeed, she thinks we don’t see—_

Yaz kept thinking, as loud as she could, even as the voices began to wrap around her mind, forcing their claws into her thoughts, dragging her to her knees. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryan dart around the edge of the room towards the Doctor, and forced her thoughts louder.

_All of us together, we’ll make a grab for the Doctor and then we’ll—_

On the other side of the room, Graham inched towards the machine, his hand in his pocket, ready to withdraw the key component of their plan. Yaz caught sight of him, only for a moment, before she forced her thoughts back on track.

_We just need to make a grab for her and then—_

She grit her teeth as her knees hit the floor with a painful thump. The voices were winding around her, picking through her mind, peering past her thoughts—her thoughts—

She’s tricking us! They reared back, at the same time as Graham yelled, “Now, Ryan!”

The voices whipped around, just as Ryan reached the Doctor. The Doctor spun around to face him, her thoughts spiraling across the room— _impatience-anger-annoyance-have to work-have to finish_ —and raised the wrench above her head, ready to bring it smashing down upon his shoulder.

But before she could, Ryan stepped forward.

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” he said. “I know you hate touching, but—”

Then, before she could react, he leaned forward and scooped her into a tight hug. The Doctor responded like a cat, immediately trying to push him away, but Ryan was stronger, and he only pulled her closer, then nodded over her shoulder at Graham. “Graham—now!”

Graham rushed forward, just as the voices, catching on, broke into an infuriated scream. They spiraled around the three of them, pressing into their minds, overwhelming, but it was too late. Graham was already at the machine, reaching into his pocket, and, before the voices could push him to his knees, slapping a relaxi-tab onto the machine.

For a moment, nothing happened. The Doctor continued to struggle furiously against Ryan’s grip, and a thousand screams blared around them, the voices swirling in indignant fury.

_NO NO NO NO NO—_

Then, tentatively, a new feeling began to seep through. Not rage, nor grief, nor pain. Only a calm, which spread quickly throughout the room, muffling the voices even as they tried to fight against it, lulling them into—into—

Nothingness, Yaz realized. She staggered to her feet, staring, as the Doctor’s protestations became weaker, and the voices drew off into nothing. Behind the Doctor, the machine began to run down, its green glow growing dimmer and dimmer. 

“It worked,” Graham whispered. “My god, it actually worked!”

The voices rippled around them, crying out in protest, but they were fading faster and faster, their power weakening, until, with one final wink, the machine went out. 

“Oi—!” Ryan staggered as the Doctor slumped against his chest, all her fight draining in an instant. Her head lolled, and as it did, the white relaxi-tab came loose, clattering to the floor. It was Graham who scooped it up, tucking it safely in his pocket.

“Definitely disposing of that,” he muttered, then straightened, his eyes running worriedly over the Doctor. “Son, is she—?”

“Unconscious, I think.” Ryan hoisted her from beneath the armpits, allowing her to sag over his shoulder with a sleepy sigh. Her head tilted to the side, and Yaz caught a glimpse of a slack jaw, a peaceful expression. “Yeah, definitely out.”

“Good, she could use it,” Graham grumbled, but there was no real bite behind it. Instead he eyed the Doctor with fond relief. “Can’t believe that worked.”

“Oh, thanks for the optimism!” Ryan retorted. “It was a good idea, you know! It made sense.”

“Sort of.” Yaz stepped toward them, grinning. “A desperate kind of sense.”

Over the Doctor’s ruffled hair, Ryan glared at her. “Actually, it made a lot of sense. I mean, think about it. If the tabs lower telepathic energy, then if you put them on that telepathic strengthener thing, they’re gonna—“

“Do the opposite.” Yaz’s smile widened. From relief or victory, she couldn’t tell. Probably both. “Okay, I’ll hand it to you. That was like, Doctor levels of genius.” 

Ryan glanced to the Doctor, fast asleep in his arms, and his gaze softened. “Yeah, well—learned from the best, you know.”

Graham chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.” His eyes swept over the Doctor once more, and the worry in his face relaxed slightly. “Okay. What do you say we do with her?”

“Medbay, maybe?” Yaz suggested. “Least, anywhere we can get a proper bed.” 

“Medbay’s closest,” Ryan said. “I vote for that.”

“Yeah?” Yaz glanced to Graham, who nodded in agreement. “Alright. Medbay it is.”

This time, it took their full combined efforts to drag an unconscious Doctor up several flights of stairs and down multiple hallways. By the time they reached the medbay, all three of them worn out from the effort, the ship had regained its normal lighting and people had begun to rush by, most, it appeared, heading in the same direction.

They found out why when they pushed open the door of the medbay. 

“Oh, bloody—” Graham glanced around the room, disgruntled. “It’s nearly as full as it was before!”

“Well, that makes sense, don’t it?” Ryan shifted, pulling the Doctor’s arm tighter across his shoulder. She was currently supported between he and Yaz, her shoulders slumped and her head hung low, utterly gone to the world. “Everybody probably wants to get their friends checked out.”

“And family.” Yaz was scanning the room, looking for an open bed. There weren’t many. Most of them were occupied, all by unconscious former victims of the tabs. Loved ones gathered around, discussing what had happened in hushed whispers.

“So it just fell off?”

“Yeah, one second he was about to grab me, and then—”

“I don’t believe it, it’s insane—”

“Here, I can help you.” The red haired medic from their previous visit, his eyes tired and his forehead bearing a nasty lump, appeared in front of them and gestured to the Doctor. “I take it she needs a bed?”

Ryan and Yaz glanced to the Doctor. “Could use one, yeah,” Ryan said. The medic nodded, and led the four of them off to the left, where an open bed sat waiting. Together, Yaz and Ryan eased the Doctor onto stiff, white sheets, then stepped back as Graham threw a scratchy-looking blue blanket over her.

“It ain’t much, but—” He shrugged, stepping back to prop himself upon the bedside table. Then he crossed his arms, and studied her. “Cor, she looks a right mess, doesn’t she?”

“Does she?” Yaz’s eyes followed Graham’s gaze, to the now-grease stained pillow and dirtied sheets. “Oh. Yeah, maybe we should have cleaned her up a bit.”

“Least she looks peaceful.” Ryan leaned against the railing at the foot of the bed, his eyes sweeping over the Doctor’s form. Even with the small size of the hospital bed, the Doctor’s boots barely touched the railing; though so large in life, in sleep she seemed to have shrunken in on herself, dwarfed beneath a blue blanket and the calm that only proper sleep could bring. 

“Yeah,” Yaz agreed. She studied the Doctor, marveling over the relaxed look upon her face. She’d never seen the Doctor in sleep before, but somehow she couldn’t imagine it would look like this. Awake, the Doctor was a ball of desperate energy, always jumping from one thing to another, never pausing quite long enough for the others to catch up. Like a blurred photograph, caught forever in motion.

Probably, Yaz thought, she kept it that way on purpose. Run and run and outrun, leaving Graham and Yaz and Ryan’s probing questions behind, lost to the wind and time and ever-eroding impatience. Sooner or later, the Doctor probably thought they would give up. 

Well, Yaz thought, with a hint of good natured stubbornness, she had certainly placed her bets on the wrong humans.

“Do you think we should talk to her, when she wakes up?” It was Ryan who broke the silence. “About what we saw?”

Graham shrugged. “We can ask. But if she doesn’t want to answer…”

“We can’t make her,” Yaz finished, even though some part of her desperately wanted to. “It’s up to her.”

Ryan looked between them, dissatisfaction from the answer clear in his eyes. “But what if she doesn’t? How are we supposed to help her, then?”

Graham shook his head. His eyes were still upon the Doctor, filled with something Yaz had only just begun to recognize. The sort of look he had for Ryan, and sometimes Yaz, when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Grandchildren, Yaz thought, and she almost laughed. The Doctor, an alien of who-knew-how-many-years, a grandchild under Graham O’Brien’s care.

“I think,” Graham said, carefully laying each word, “we can’t necessarily help her the way we want to. We’ll just have to be there for her.”

“That’s not much,” Ryan pointed it. “Not much at all.”

“Yeah.” Yaz gazed at the Doctor, still so peaceful in sleep. As if she hadn’t a care in the world. “But I think that’s the best we can do.”


	10. Chapter 10

The Doctor came back to consciousness slowly, and not without reluctance. In fact, it was only when she was halfway to the surface, floating between sleep and wakefulness, that she became sludgily aware that she had been asleep at all. 

The first thing she heard was voices. Distant and faint, and seeping with a worry that didn’t make sense, but she recognized them immediately.

“Hey, I think she’s waking up!”

“Oh, _finally_ , I thought she’d sleep for ten years.”

_“Ryan!”_

“What? Everybody else is already gone. I was worried she’d—”

“Shh! Look, she’s opening her eyes.”

The Doctor blinked blearily, and fuzzy whiteness came into focus. No—not whiteness, but a white room, filled with similarly colored medical equipment. Could have chosen another color, she thought dimly, and then it occurred to her to wonder how she’d gotten there. It looked like a medbay, and the Doctor didn’t do medbays, except—

“You okay there, Doc?” 

The Doctor looked up, and caught Graham’s worried expression. He was leaning over her, fingers twitching as if he thought he was meant to be doing something to help. Beside him, Ryan looked much the same way, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

Without thinking, she gave a weary smile.

To her other side, Yaz reached out to gently touch her hand. “You were asleep a long time. How are you feeling?”

“Feeling?” The Doctor looked to her and blinked, her smile faltering. Funny—her eyes felt heavy and her throat thick, as if she’d been crying. Had she been crying? She couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember anything, really. “Why would I—”

Then it hit her, and her smile dropped completely. She drew back, pressing into the pillows, as the weight of what had happened came crashing down on her.

She had put on the relaxi-tab and then—and then—

“Doctor, it’s okay!” Yaz’s hand inched towards her own, and it was only then that she realized she had yanked it away. She stared at it, watched dumbly as Yaz wrapped her fingers around her own and gave her palm a squeeze. “Seriously, we’re just worried. Were worried. We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Okay?” But they had seen, she thought frantically. She was lying in a medbay with only the most indistinct of memories, but some of them involved shouts and frustration and tears, which meant that she had messed up for what had to be the dozenth time on one crummy cruise trip, and the fam would have—the fam would have— “But why would you—”

“We care about you, mate.” This was Ryan, whose hands had relaxed from his shirt, and now hung at his sides. He was smiling, his eyes sparkling with a fondness the Doctor couldn’t remember seeing in a while. “We don’t say it enough, do we? We care, Doctor. A lot.”

“Even if you’re in a bad mood,” Graham put in, putting up a hand to stop the Doctor’s immediate refutation. “Listen, Doc, I don’t know how much you remember—”

A planet burning and her friends to watch, the Doctor helpless to do anything but stare, screaming silently, trapped inside her own head until the telepathic beings put her out of her pathetic misery.

“I remember.”

“Then—well.” Graham hesitated, his hands shoved into his pockets. “You know you can talk to us if you need to, yeah? You don’t have to go around dragging us on trips to make up for things that don’t even matter.”

“But you wanted a break,” the Doctor objected. “You wanted a vacation, and I ruined—”

“Don’t.” Graham shook his head. The Doctor fell silent, then opened her mouth again, only to be cut off by another shake of his head. “Don’t, Doc. You don’t have to say anything. There’s nothing to say.”

“Isn’t there?” the Doctor said softly. Tears were gathering in her eyes, to her utter horror, only moments from spilling over. She could see it on their faces too, their knowledge and their warm sympathy, the kind that she had thought would hurt so badly.

Funny, but it didn’t hurt at all.

Yaz shrugged. “Maybe later, if you want. But for now…there’s nothing, Doctor. Forget the relaxi-tab.”

“Just don’t do it again, yeah?” Ryan said with the sort of grin that meant he was only joking. Without thinking, the Doctor smiled weakly back at him.

“I won’t,” she promised, then hesitated. “But…I’m sorry for the vacation. I swear, if I’d have known the ship was possessed—”

Yaz rolled her eyes, and gave her hand a squeeze. “You would have jumped right in saying how you ‘love a mystery’?”

The Doctor fell silent, caught. Then she gave a sheepish shrug. “Well, I would have done it much better than I did this time,” she mumbled.

Ryan snorted. “Like this wasn’t par for the course.”

The Doctor opened her mouth to object, but it was too late; Graham was chuckling, and Yaz was wearing the sort of smile she wore when she was trying not to give in to laughter. The Doctor looked between them, uncertain for a long moment, then let a small smile spread across her own lips, marveling in the impossible rightness of it. It felt light, easy, if only for a second.

A smile among friends. That wasn’t all it took, maybe, and the thought of a second one—of normalcy, and discussing things over tea and biscuits, of opening up—still filled her with a quaking fear, but it was a start. The first step, maybe, in a journey that would take miles, days, months. Time, and more time.

But looking between her friends, their eyes twinkling with fondness and Yaz’s hand tight around hers, it occurred to the Doctor, for the first time, that it might be a journey worth taking.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading! And again, I'm sorry for the delay. To be honest, I feel like this story isn't quite up to snuff, but I really don't have the time nor ability to go back to edit it (I, in my apparent wisdom, have taken on like ten billion other projects, plus school). So at the moment, I'm afraid it is what it is. Again, thank you all, and thanks for your patience.


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